#still better than him having that awful beard and being so fucking weird around her for no reason like that series seem to have done

[leaflnthewind]

Sometimes I see Supergirl gifs of Lena and Lex and I get kind of... disappointed that they made that relationship so horrible?

Sure, Lex and Lena's relationship in comics is not the best. Their currently story is that he left her to live with her aunt and never spoke to her again after not being able to help her when she got sick. Then when he did he tried to hide her from the world of fear of not being able to protect her. She grew resentful of him after that and tried to kill him (which was so valid of her actually).

But it sucks to see that Lena so alone because besides all that, Lex loves Lena, she was once referenced as the only person Lex was truly capable of loving, and it sucks that they didn't let her have that.

Like, sure, he deserved to get shot for crying his ableist tears everytime he said he couldn't stand to see her in a wheelchair because he failed or wtv. But at very least he does lover her in his Lex Luthor way.

(then there's also the fact she's not disabled in that series, and as far as i know she also doesn't have her telephatic powers either so i wonder who that Lena was ever supposed to be lmao)

[from-seas-to-skies]

Farm Grown / Hawks x Reader ♕︎

uwu, I had the lovely @weirddpand4 draw this picture of cowboy Hawks for this work!!!

warnings: NSFW, spanking, cream pie

words: 4,802

-

“Oh, wow! Look at that! I’ve never seen grass so green before!” your friend, Urakaka Ochaco, exclaims.

Glancing up from your phone, you follow her line of vision; gracious hills of rich green grass stretch out far into the horizon, meeting with the brilliant shade of blue. It’s so unlike the skyscrapers and closely-knit houses you’re used to seeing. No, this is what pure beauty looks like, Mother Nature in one of her most wonderful forms. Although the fields are dotted with wildflowers and corn fields, you don’t miss the dirt road further up ahead, a large wooden sign planted next to it.

When Ochaco originally came to you with the idea of being a farmhand, you thought she was crazy. You’ve finally graduated from high school, got the title of professional hero, and this is the first thing she wanted to do? However, as she further explained, it was a family friend who needed help during the summer months, and what were heroes for? Granted, you wanted to run around the cement jungle and provide help that way, but this “almost vacation” didn’t sound too bad – plus, with the puppy eyes Ochaco flashed at you, it was impossible to say no.

And so, here you are, sitting in the passenger side of a coupe with Ochaco behind the wheel. You have to admit; the surrounding atmosphere is beautiful, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to run barefoot through the grass. Clouds of dust rise as the car eventually comes to a stop outside of a weathered farmhouse. Ochako flashes you a smile, her large eyes twinkling.

“Look at how huge this place is! I know Uncle Iroh said he had a couple people helping out, but this is incredible! We’ll each have our own room!”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Ochaco’s always been easy to rile up, and the fact that she’s genuinely excited to spend quality “bonding time” with you is heartwarming. As the two of you step out of the car, the front door to the farmhouse opens, revealing an elderly man with a long beard and a kind expression. His face cracks into a smile when he and Ochaco make eye contact; the two hurry towards each other, warm greetings and bone-crushing hugs being shared between the two. It’s no wonder Ochaco was so excited to spend the summer here; with a relationship like that, you’d be happy to see the man too.

“Oh, come, come!” Iroh says, hurrying around the car and popping the trunk open. “You must be Ochaco’s friend, yes?” he asks, looking towards you. A wave of pleasant warmth washes over your being as he sends you that charming smile. “I appreciate the help! I only have my nephew and another man working here already, but the extra hands will come in handy.” He pauses then to chuckle at his own joke. “But I think it’s about you two get settled, yeah?”

“Right!” you respond, pulling out your own suitcase.

As you walk up towards the wraparound porch, you glance to the other trucks sitting out in front of the farmhouse. Iroh said two others were already here, so you figured the trucks must be theirs…

“Zuko!” Iroh booms. “Our guests are here!”

After a moment or so, a boy around your age staggers from the kitchen, a tray in his hands. From the looks of it, a teapot and some cups line its surface.

“Tea is our specialty, here,” Iroh says, nudging you with your shoulder. “Get something to drink and then we’ll show you your rooms.”

-

Later on that evening, you’re gazing out your window, watching the sun fall. Hues of orange, peach, and lilac paint the sky, bidding the world goodbye for the night. It’s definitely different to experience it here than back home, back where silhouettes were outlined by the golden glow. A steady breeze carries on, carrying the scent of wildflowers and musk; your curtains flap from the sheer force of it, but you pay it no mind. It’s like Ochaco brought you to a slice of paradise, even if it’s with the intention of putting in labor.

In the distance, you hear calls and the distinguished moos of cows. Shifting your gaze, you catch a herd of cows being moved towards a barn; a man riding a brown horse wrangles them in, a border collie by his side. The way he pulls it off is smooth, and it’s clear that he’s used to pulling such a feat. However, what really catches your attention is the pair of magnificent scarlet wings protruding from his back. Now, you’re used to seeing some rather flashy quirks, but this guy’s is just… Wow.

“Hey, Uncle Iroh wanted me to come get you,” Ochaco’s voice says suddenly. Turning around, you see her standing in the doorway, a pleasant expression playing on her face. “We’re having oyakodon for dinner! Doesn’t a hot meal sound delicious?” And, as if to amp up your spirits, Ochaco licks her lips and pats her tummy. “I’m so hungry from a long drive!”

You huff in amusement. “Yeah, I am too.” Turning around, you catch a glimpse of the cows disappearing into the barn, that mysterious cowboy stationed by the doors. “Hey, Ochaco,” you start before realizing it, “but who’s that other guy that lives here? The one with the wings?”

Walking over to where you stand, Ochaco peers out the window, following your line of sight. “Oh, him? That’s Keigo. Uncle Iroh says he’s only been here for the past year or so, but he’s really good at what he does! I heard all the animals like him a lot – maybe it’s because of the wings?”

“Don’t you think it’s… odd that’s only a farmhand? With a quirk like that, you’d think he’d be doing something else.”

Ochaco shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe you should ask him sometime? Oh, but I’m really hungry! Can we go eat, now?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got distracted…”

And so, you soon find yourself sitting at a sturdy wooden table, a bowl of oyakodon sitting before you. It smells utterly delicious - and paired with the tea Iroh brewed, you know you’re in for a treat. Just then, you hear a door opening and closing; there’s a chatter of some sorts, but then there he is, right there in the flesh.

Strong build, wide shoulders, blond hair that looks permanently tousled, and oh yes, those magnificent wings. Perhaps you shouldn’t be staring so much, but the sharp line of his jaw and intense eyes make it nearly impossible to look away. You’ve heard of such things, read about them in stories, but maybe, just maybe, you might’ve fallen for the guy at first sight. That, or he’s just too damn attractive for his own good.

“Howdy! Oh, shit, who are these two cuties?”

Or maybe not.

“Oi! Keigo! Can’t you be respectful for once in your life?” Iroh barks, popping around the other. He scowls as he slaps a wing out of his way. “Make a good impression for yourself. These two are going to be here for the rest of the summer, so don’t be an ass.”

“C’mon, gramps,” Keigo drawls, “you know I’m better than that. Plus, if they don’t like my attitude, then it’s not really my fault, huh?”

“Nothing ever changes,” Zuko says lowly, his words followed by a deep sigh.

You and Ochaco share a look. It seems like your Prince Charming is nothing more than a sarcastic asshat. How befitting.

“Liven up, birdies,” Keigo says, sliding into the chair directly across from you. “I don’t bite.” He winks at you. “Yet.”

Your entire body jolts at his proclamation. This guy really is shameless, isn’t he? Still, you can’t help but feel undeniably attracted to him. Curse his charisma, dammit.

“Aw, sweet! Is this oyakodon? Hell yeah.”

To the side, Zuko facepalms. Iroh merely chuckles and shakes his head, much like he’s way too used to this kind of behavior and has accepted it as it is. Hell, even Ochako cracks a smile. You, on the other hand, stare at Keigo in confusion. He has a bird-based quirk, doesn’t he? Does it not bother him to not eat chicken…?

Keigo puts up a hand, an amused glint in his eyes. “Look, I already know what you’re gonna ask, kid. I can practically see the gears spinning in that pretty head of yours. I fucking love chicken.”

Oh… Well, that takes care of that, doesn’t it…

-

After that first fateful encounter, you’ve grown used to Keigo’s ways. It’s funny, though, how he and Zuko’s personalities basically sit on either end of the spectrum, yet Iroh treats the both of them like they’re his children. While Zuko is serious and straight-laced, Keigo is more of a chatty free spirit. That said, you’ve also gotten used to Keigo’s flirty side. You suspect it’s because he likes to get a rise out of everyone. Whether that’s the case or not, your eyes often wander after him, stare down the hard lines of his back. Even better, you itch to trail your lips over the scruff lining his jaw. The guy’s too damn hot and he knows it.

Over the past month, a game of cat and mouse has started between the two of you. Him, trying to act all chummy and overstepping numerous boundaries. You, trying not to give into the weird relationship that’s bloomed between you and him. Sure, you might have flirted back, but what were you supposed to do? After all, Keigo’s proved himself to be a rather cool guy.

“You can’t keep spacing out like that, kid,” Keigo says, snapping you from your thoughts. Glancing down at him, you attempt to suppress your embarrassment, but Keigo’s too smart for that. Despite his relaxed attitude, he’s surprisingly intelligent and quite observant.

Hands tightening around the saddle, you scoff. “I wasn’t spacing out…”

Keigo cocks an eyebrow. “You know, if I wasn’t holding onto the reins, Nugget would’ve bucked you off a long time ago.”

This time, you snicker. You know that he has an undying love for chicken, but every time he refers to his horse as Nugget, you can’t help but laugh. This guy really is like a child.

“Pffft. Laugh all you want, birdie. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to ride.” Narrowing his eyes, he flashes you a sultry look. “If you want, I can show you.”

All laughter dies on your tongue. A spark of heat erupts in your stomach, makes your heart thump against your ribcage. He always manages to fluster you, to plant naughty little thoughts into your head. You swallow thickly. “I think… I think I’ll stick with Nugget for now.”

At that, Keigo shrugs, his expression turning into something more nonchalant. “Suit yourself. Seriously, though; you should always keep your focus while riding a horse. Anything can happen, and you’ll only know you’re fucked until you’re being crushed. Better yet, you’re flying overhead and end up snapping your neck. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t have wings to break your fall.”

“Keigo.”

He looks back up at you. “What?”

“Your wings. It’s just that… Well… Why help out on farm?”

Keigo blinks at you, no words slipping out. “Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shit,” you say quickly, mentally cursing yourself out, “that’s not what I meant. You can fly, can’t you? It just seems like you could’ve made a name for yourself…”

“And become a hero, right?” You wince at his words. He hit the nail right on the head. “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I could spew a whole bunch of shit from my mouth and call it a day, but that’s not my style. I’m a hero in my own right.”

You furrow your brows. Remaining silent, you wait for him to carry on.

Keigo sighs at your implication. “Not all heroes wear capes or whatever. What about cops? Firefighters? Nurses? People who help put food on your table and help that old man out? Just because I’m not stopping some robbery doesn’t mean I’m not important.”

His words come as a slap to the face. He has a good point; actually, scratch that. He has a fantastic fucking point.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment’s silence. “That was selfish of me.”

Keigo waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t beat yourself up, kid. Nugget gets nervous if you get into a bad mood.”

Absentmindedly, your hand drops onto the horse’s neck, giving it a couple of reassuring strokes. “He’s a beautiful horse.”

“Yeah – well, until I bathe him. Getting up close and personal to horse cock isn’t fun. A bit degrading, actually.”

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your sudden laughter. Air streams through the cracks of your fingers.

Instead of his usual smirk, Keigo flashes you a genuine smile. You’ve only seen it once or twice before, but it never fails to make your heart stop. His whole face scrunches, his pearly teeth a startling white compared to his sun-kissed skin. Okay, so maybe you’ve fallen in love with this guy. It’s no big deal; you’re only here for the summer, so there’s no point in chasing after something you can’t have.

“What, did ya find that funny? I’m here all week, folks.”

“You saying you’re a standup comedian now?” you shoot back. “I didn’t know they accepted clowns on farms.”

“Ohoho, so you do got a mouth. Where’s that been all this time, huh? Would’ve made things a lot more fun.” Reaching up, he knocks his cowboy hat further back, revealing more strands of sandy hair and bronzed skin. “Listen here, partner. This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

“Oh my god,” you say with a snort. “You’re such a dork.”

Keigo snickers. “You know you love me.”

Heh. Yeah…

If only he knew.

-

Maybe you should’ve taken his words more into consideration.

Your instincts are more attuned to what could happen in battle, not for words. Besides, Keigo is a sneaky bastard. Most of the things that spew from his mouth are innuendos and pure sarcasm. He doesn’t really come off as a genuine type of person.

It’s whatever. You don’t like to read into things too much, and maybe that’s your fault, maybe it’s not. Who knows?

Even so, your eyes continuously drift over to where he stands. He busies himself with hanging Nugget’s saddle and harness away, his body lax. If one’s thing for sure, he definitely seems a lot more comfortable around animals rather than actual human beings. You can’t blame him, but what about you? Is he comfortable around you?

Clearing your throat, you turn back to the task at hand. Brushing Nugget down, you trail your hand over the coarse hair, the hard muscle. You meant it when you said he’s beautiful. Shiny brown coat, straw colored hair – he seems like the perfect match for Keigo.

“Cowboy Keigo,” you mutter. “Tell me, Nugget,” you begin, “does Keigo treat you right? Feeds you apples and lumps of sugar? A pretty horse like you deserves to be spoiled.” At the mention of his master’s name, Nugget whinnies. “Is that a yes? You’re avoiding the question, man.”

“Are you seriously trying to sweettalk my horse?” Keigo pipes up. Stepping over the stall, he hoists himself up onto the gate and straddles the wood. Wings sweeping behind him, he flashes you a peculiar look. “Didn’t they teach you in school that you shouldn’t seduce a horse? I don’t know about you, kid, but bestiality isn’t smiled upon around here.”

“Then what does that say about you, bird boy?” you quip. “Surely you don’t put yourself in that category?”

“Ooo, degradation. How did you know that was one of my kinks? Were you looking through my search history?”

Rolling your eyes, you set the brush to the side and join him at the gate. Climbing up, you mimic his movements and straddle the wooden beam. “Kinky cowboy, huh? Kind of has a nice ring to it.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got the bedazzled white boots and everything. I mean, I’m already wearing the assless chaps and everything.”

“You sound more like a stripper rather than a farmhand. What do you think, Nugget?” you ask, turning towards the horse. Nugget merely snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey, hey, don’t agree,” Keigo tells him. “I’ve got to keep my secret life a secret, you damned horse. Help a guy out.”

“I guess your partner would rather throw you under the bus,” you say with a chuckle. “Good horse.”

“Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”

“Cry me a river, bird boy. Or do I have to kiss your booboos?”

At that, Keigo falls quiet. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but the way his body tensed tells you something else entirely. Abruptly, he swings his leg over the gate and hops back down onto the ground. Aw, shit. Did you take it too far? It was only lighthearted flirting and yanking on his leg-

“C’mere,” Keigo says, offering you his hand. His voice is a lot more… soft.

With little to no hesitation, you take hold of his hand and get off the gate. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but then he’s abruptly pulling you to the side, further away from the stable’s open doors. Birds are singing outside, their sweet melody carrying along with the sweet summer breeze. It almost seems like an entire world away. A grunt escapes your lips as you’re shoved against the wall, the smell of straw and musk filling your senses. Keigo steps in close, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down your spine.

“Listen here, pretty little birdie,” he drawls, his lips pulling back in a smirk, “but I may just have to take you up on that offer.”

Wait, what?

“What the hell, Keigo? Where is this coming from?” you question. It’s not like you’re against him being so damn close, it’s just… unexpected.

“Oh, right, like I’m supposed to pretend that you don’t gawk at me at any chance you get. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Embarrassment heats up your insides, crawls up your neck. So this bastard is really going to rub it in your face, huh? Seems just like him.

“Then why didn’t you say anything about it before?” you hiss. “If it’s such a problem, don’t stay silent. You’re not the type to let things like that slide.”

“Who said it was problem?”

Keigo: 1 / you: 0

Spluttering, you try to gain control of your whirling emotions. This is not how you were expecting this conversation to go. Actually, you weren’t expecting this conversation at all!

“I know for a fact that you can’t get enough of me,” Keigo continues. “And if I’m being completely honest, I like it. You look so cute when you stare after me, birdie. Then you have the audacity to pretend like nothing happened whenever I catch you.”

“Is that what this is all about?” you huff. “Okay, fine. I admit it. Maybe I watch what you’re doing more than what’s necessary. It’s not my fault you walk around all the time without a shirt on or anything…”

“Normally, I’d say because it’s because I get hot when I’m working, but knowing that you were watching made it all the better.” He winks at you. “Gotta hand out a treat here and there, you know?”

“You really are a clown!” you squeak. Keigo laughs as you weakly shove at his chest. “You’ve been leading me on this entire time? What am I, a joke?”

“Hey now, don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. It’s not my fault you couldn’t come up to me like a civilized adult.”

Okay, now you’re fuming. “Keigo, you fucking idiot-“

Swooping in, Keigo cuts you off with a kiss. Unsurprisingly, his lips are soft; he tastes like citrus and salt, and before you know it, you’re looping your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. A huff of laughter fans across your lips as Keigo pulls back, his mouth hovering over yours. “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that ever since your pretty ass sat at the kitchen table for the first time.”

You sigh. “You really do have a bird brain…”

You kiss him, again and again. Perhaps you should be ashamed that you have your tongue shoved down somebody’s throat rather than working, but there’s no way you’re stopping now. Like him, you’ve been waiting for this moment. The two of you have been tiptoeing around each other, rolling the tension back and forth like a goddamn snowball.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

His hands aren’t shy, not in the slightest. Fingertips map out the ridges and dips of your body, seek out the spots that really make you tick. You bite back a giggle as he drops his mouth down your neck, the scruff covering his jawline tickling your skin. Your own hands trail over his body, tracing over the hard lines of muscle that hide beneath his clothes. Time and time again, whenever you’d see him without a shirt, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands all over him. This is your chance, now, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take it.

“Shit, shit, shit, not the wings,” Keigo pants into your neck. The scarlet feathers feel like silk beneath your fingertips; skimming over them, you follow their shape, feel how they get fluffier the closer they are to his shoulders. “Oh, fuck. You know just what you’re doing, huh, birdie? Playing around with me like that. Two can play at that game.”

Another grunt slips from your lips as he pushes you against the wall, harder this time. His hands shamelessly drift underneath your shirt, warm palms sliding over your skin. Your shirt comes off before you know it, being unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

“Fuck, birdie, aren’t a pretty one,” Keigo purrs, his nose bumping against your throat as he sucks another mark into your flesh. “I bet you’re real pretty down here, too…” Making quick work of your jeans, he easily slips them down your legs and you eagerly step out of them. “Don’t mind if I do, kid,” he murmurs into your ear before nipping at the lobe.

A weak moan breaks from your throat as a hand slips into your underwear and cups your sex. His hand is just so warm, and the roughness of his callouses causes your head to spin. Within no time, wet, sinful noises sound from between your legs, mixing with your heavy breaths and Keigo’s encouraging words.

“Yeah, you like that, birdie? My fingers feel good, huh? Wait until you get a feel of my cock.”

Spurred on by his words, you hastily unbutton his shirt, pushing the fabric to the side and running your hands over the swell of his pectorals, the ridges of his abdomen. A faint dusting of blond hairs covers his chest and arms; and, if you look close enough, more sticks out from the waistband of his jeans. Keigo hums as you continue to feel him up, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“Like what you see? I bet you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time… Fuck! Not going to go easy on me, huh? I like someone who can bite back.”

“Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?” you breathe. Fingers wrapped around his cock, your movements catch up to his in speed. “You should consider yourself lucky that I like your voice.”

“Oohoohoo, feisty. That mouth of yours is saying a lot of mean things today, isn’t it? Guess I’ll have to put you in your place.” He pauses, swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “But, if I’m being entirely too honest, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

“Keigo,” you pant, “I swear to Christ if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“On it, on it. Don’t get your panties in a twist, your majesty.” In hurried movements, he strips you of your underwear and shucks his chaps and jeans down. Large hands grip onto your thighs and then you’re being hoisted up, sandwiched between his rigid body and the wall. “Why, won’t you feel that,” he purrs, “I’d say it’s high noon.”

“Don’t talk about your dick like that, you dork,” you scoff. “Oh, fuck.” Another pleasured noise slips through your lips as you grind down against him, his cock just barely teasing your hole.

“What was that, birdie? You know what they say – sweetie on the farm, a freak in the barn.”

“You’re anything but sweet. Just – Keigo, please?”

“Alright, I get it, enough teasing.” Adjusting his hold on you, he flashes you a tiny smile. “Hold on, partner.”

A choked groan breaks free from your throat as his cock slides in, your velvety walls sucking him in greedily. That damned smirk of his stays on his face the entire time he fucks you, along with that devious glint in his eyes. His façade only cracks after you start stroking his wings and squeeze around his cock; if he wants to act like a cocky son of a bitch, then so can you.

“Shit, you’re fucking tight,” he pants. The smack of skin against skin fills your ears, right alongside Keigo’s breathy moans and muttered words. “Keep squeezing like that, birdie, and you’re gonna make me cum quicker than I want to.”

“You almost sound like that’s exactly what you want me to do,” you breathe. “A cowboy like you has got to have some stamina, right? Don’t tell me all of that work goes to nothing.”

“Jesus, and you called me talkative. Fuck, I can’t wait to shove my cock down your throat and shut you the hell up – I said don’t squeeze like that, holy hell. Dirty little head you got there, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumble, yanking him back into a kiss. Keigo only moans loudly as you continue to play with his wings, quickly finding out that the spot where they protrude from his flesh is the most sensitive.

“Milk my cock, birdie,” he mutters between broken kisses. “You’re so fucking good to me, oh yeah. I should’ve done this weeks ago.” A startled squeak bursts from your throat as he abruptly strikes your ass. Sucking air through his teeth, he does it again, relishing in the desperate noises spilling from your mouth. “That’s right, birdie. Come on, make me cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you, fill you up until your belly’s bloated.”

“Keigo-“  You moan as his hand drops down, fingers furiously rubbing at your sex.

“That’s right, say my name. Let the whole fucking world know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Keigo-“

Smack.

“KEIGO!”

The knot building up inside you snaps; with a cry, you cling even closer to him, your velvety walls spasming around his thick cock as you cum.

Slamming a hand against the wall, Keigo fucks into you harder, faster, the wet noises sounding from between your legs almost deafening. “Oh fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah, oh fuck, fuck, fuck – ah- ah- ugghnn…” Burying his face in your neck, his hips erratically jerk as warmth fills your insides. “Still… cumming… fuccckkk…”

Your eyes flutter as he shallowly thrusts into you, the sinful squelch of his cum leaking out around his cock filling your ears. Slowly, he comes to a stop, his hot breath fanning over your neck and the side of your face. Gingerly, you let him go, completely unaware that your fingernails had dug into him in the first place.

“Well,” he starts, lifting his head and flicking away sweaty strands of hair, “that was eventful, wasn’t it?”

You scoff. “Tell me why I like you again…?”

“Oh, darling,” he drawls, leaning in and pecking the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you like me. I think you love me. You aren’t very subtle.” He laughs as you smack him on the chest.

“Okay, fine. You’re lucky I love you, bird brain. Don’t go rubbing it in.”

“Silly birdie,” Keigo hums, his face scrunching into that wonderful smile of his. “I may just love you too.”

Wait, seriously?

“And no, I’m not joking or being an ass,” he continues, as if reading your mind. “What’s it called? Love at first sight? I dunno, seems like cheesy bullshit to me, but I… I like the appeal of it. It sounds nice when you’re involved.”

Your heart thumps against your chest.

Oh, fuck.

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[sibsteria]

all the angels [cast & angels & chuck]

prompts: ''run away with me''

summary: [bare with me, this is a long summary and concept] throughout the decades, y/n and the angels lived in harmony, her being the only being with powers on par with chuck. an immortal life with your angels sounds good, doesn't it? something goes wrong and y/n gets projected into the world of the spn actors. she had never met god, despite being made for the angels because of him. the thing is, she doesn't remember anything of her life with the angels and this messes with reality. the world of reality, along with y/n, are all magically convinced she has always been in their universe as a fellow cast mate. what happens when most of her favourite angels and a certain hellish man team up to collect her in the middle of a con?

characters: Rob Benedict, Richard Speight Jr, Mark Pellegrino, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Sebastian Roche, Chuck Shurley, Gabriel, Castiel, Lucifer, Balthazar, Crowley

warnings: I dreamt something along the lines of this and it's just pure crack, I apologise, fluff, angst, everyone is single because it gets weird. I wrote this at 4am :/

---

''So let's talk about Y/n's character! She hasn't been explained too much but we know her backstory.'' Wow, thank you, Mark Sheppard.

''Well, I'm pretty sure the fans already know.'' I shrug, but a glare from the man before me makes me roll my eyes.

''Come on, don't leave them in the dust, also sharing a name with your character is weird right?'' He teases me, I resist the urge to walk over and playfully slap him.

''Fine. She was created by God to please the angels in whatever way they needed, with her consent obviously. She creates a connection with Gabriel and their connection become the focus of her life, until she meets Crowley-'' I look over at Sheppard and paint a fake scowl on my face, sending the audience into light laughter. ''-who is also vying for her attention, but as you all know, she had been killed off at the end of the last season. Y'all didn't see that blinding golden light and her disappearing act?'' I raise my eyebrow at the crowd. They murmur amongst themselves.

''Are you sure she was killed off?'' Richard snickers from next to me. ''What if her dear Gabe just snapped her away for some-'' He wags his eyebrows to out fans. ''-angel on paragon action.''

''It's literally in the script shut up- or you know, believe this idiot.'' I smile, showing I meant no offense

''Scripts change! You know that!'' Misha reasons, aggressively.

''I suppose so.'' Leaving audiences in an unsolved mystery is the fun of cons.

---

Sitting in the green room, it's sweaty and warm after the panel. We are instantly greeted by our colleagues awaiting their next instructions such as Mark Pellegrino, Sebastian Roche and Rob Benedict.

''Welcome back, you little bastards.'' Sebastian's voice rings throughout the room, I groan, faceplanting onto the couch where Rob sat, fiddling with an acoustic guitar.

We sat, talked, ate, I napped, yknow the usual.

---

''So, do you think they will bring you back for the next season?'' Misha asks, I bite my lip and answer him.

''I have no idea, no one has said anything so maybe not. I'll be joining our widdle Kings of Con if not.'' I give a baby voice when talking about the couple that is R2.

''Hey!'' Rob's voice wavers in his distinct little way.

''Rude of you to call me little.'' Richard winks and I shoot gag at him, he feigns a frown.

''In other news-'' Mark Pellegrino's cut-in is interrupted by a blinding golden light, surrounding the room. I grip onto Rob's arm as the ground begins to shake, burring my head into his chest, I cover my eyes from the light. He holds me back just as tight, hiding in the comfort of my shoulder. One of many weird, intimate moments with him that makes people believe we are together.

A loud, pitched, sound rattles around us. A few of us scream in pain but I just whimper and move closer into Rob.

Suddenly, everything stops and stills.

I can't force myself to move.

''What the fuck?!'' I hear Misha, making me not want to move even more.

''Ha! Look, she's cuddling you. Awe.'' I hear Richard's voice, but it wasn't him, it didn't sound like him. I pull myself away from Rob's chest and look at the scene unfolding.

'What the fuck?'' I whisper, repeating Collins' earlier comment. Stood here, a few feet in front of us are Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel, Crowley, Lucifer and Chuck. Did I miss something?

''Not happy to see us, darlin'?'' Gabriel smirks, a foot of his approaches me, I look at them in confusion and shock.

''W-What's going on?'' That is the first time I have ever heard Pellegrino stutter.

''We should probably talk...'' Chuck wavers his hands to us all, motioning us to listen to him.

''So, uh, Y/n here? She's our Y/n, from our reality and we kinda want her back.'' Gabriel shuffles his weight between each of his feet, I'm in too much terror to even speak, so is everyone else.

''You hear him, dickbags? We want her back.'' Lucifer crosses his arms, staring dead into Pellegrino's soul, presumably to make him uncomfortable.

''I don't understand-'' I stop myself, leaving it at that.

''Wait, do you not remember?'' Gabriel looks at me, broken eyes reflect his inside pain.

''Of course she doesn't, you bollock! Can't you see the look on her face?'' Crowley rolls his eyes but for some reason I can sense his true sadness.

''I will explain, better.'' Castiel takes a step towards me. ''You are Y/n Divine, our Divine, your the celestial from our existence. Your our...?'' He struggles to find the words, Balthazar answers for him. Not the lot of explaining I need there, Cas.

''Our collective soulmate, so to speak.'' He nods.

''Yeah, that's who I am in Supernatural but- this isn't the show, this is reality. I gotta be dreaming, oh my God-'' Chuck interferes (doesn't he always).

''That's me.'' The nervous laugh from the bearded almighty almost makes me laugh, almost, but the situation was too real for it. ''Would it help if I...showed you?'' He says, unsure of his choice of words.

For some reason, I pour my trust into him, and walk towards the clone of my almost boyfriend, I wished.

''Mind if I show all of you?'' Chuck asks, before ignoring some of the 'no's in the room and he snaps, bringing us into a dream state.

Scenes flow through our brains, ones that weren't in the show

---

Dressed in a white kaftan with golden afflictions, there was Y/n, lay in the greenest of grass. And next to her? Gabriel the Archangel. Almost in a Bella-Edward meadow position, the two looked into each other, reading one another's soul.

''Run away with me.'' Gabriel whispers, lighter than air.

''What?'' She snaps out of her dreamy daze.

''Let's leave, you don't need any other angel that isn't me.'' This breaks her heart, although Gabriel was her favourite and the one she had a special connection with, she had a duty to remain near the other angels.

''I want to-'' Gabe's heart lifts but sank soon after. ''-but you know I can't. I wasn't created to defy my purpose, I would cease to exist if I did.'' A tear rolls down her cheek, the light from the fading sun rested gracefully on her skin.

''I know. Oh, what was I thinking? My father will come after us and- I would rather now think about what he would do to us, to you.'' He looks away from her to relish in his pain.

''Don't be like that, my little Aurelian enchanter-'' She mentions the colour of his golden wings, which lay across the ground behind him, a beautiful sight. ''-the time will come where no angel needs me, then I can devote myself to you, only you.'' She mumbles, pressing a sure kiss to the peak of his nose. He huffs in a peaceful array of emotion.

''At least you don't kiss any other of my brothers or estranged family.'' He nudges back at her, nose to nose.

---

''That was sickening to watch.'' Pellegrino chuckles into the dark abyss of our voices, unable to see each other but still recognising each other within the blindness.

''Shall I show you another one?'' A rhetorical question from the Lord from above, as he whisks us into another memory.

---

She sat on a bench, clad in elegancy, the world was still new and beaming. New angels were being created, not all of them needed a divine celestial to aid them, so she spent her days watching the creations live. The bees harvesting pollen from the flowers was one of her favourite sights.

She felt an angelic presence appear next to her, but a new one, an unknown one.

''Who might you be?'' She asks, not tearing her eyes away from the fuzz of a creature.

''I am Castiel.'' Short and stat, seems like the kind of being he was, without a vessel he could be read more easily.

''No vessel yet, I assume?'' She looks towards the beam of light beside her.

''No, not yet. I hardly think there's a need for such a thing.'' His voice was the most beautiful she had heard, of all the angels, no vessel and no front made him so much more enticing.

''Well, nice to meet you. You're wings...they're black? Pretty though, new as well.'' She smiled at Castiel, his aura positively increased, the interaction helping them both. Just a simple amount of time in company can help an angel.

''Thank you.''

---

''So that's Castiel?'' Misha seems uneasy.

''Would you like to see the encounter between her and his vessel?''

---

She sat, with Balthazar, just grooming his beautiful wings. An act she did for her most favourite angels.

''Have you seen Castiel's vessel?'' He smiles up at her, in his own vessel.

''Not yet but I am excited though, from the comments I'm hearing, he is a most handsome fellow.'' She brushes past a certain spot, making Bal shiver in delight, not in a sexual manner.

''Ugh, like you don't find yourself infatuated with my golden winged brother already, don't go falling for another one.'' He groans in disgust, she laughs, melodically.

''I can promise you, I won't.'' That was a future lie.

''Hello, Y/n.'' A new voice from behind her, sensing the energy, she knew it was Cas.

A wide grin stretches across her features, ''Castiel!'' She shouts, whipping round to face the angel in his new restrictions. ''My, my, good choice, my angel.'' A nickname specifically reserved for the defying being.

''I would say 'thank you', but it would be a most similar and repetitive interaction.'' She sighs in relaxation, reliving her first encounter with Castiel.

''You are always welcome, you're one of my favourites.'' She boops his nose, squeaking 'boop' at the same time, Cas cocks his head in confusion.

''Boop?'' He questions her, she shrugs her shoulders.

''You're cute, so I booped you.'' She giggles, Castiel couldn't refuse the stutter in his 'emotions' as she spoke.

''Okay.''

---

I heard Mark Sheppard's voice throughout the void, ''YoU'rE cUtE, sO i BoOpEd YoU!'' His badgering voice pointing fun at me.

''Shut up.'' I mumble.

---

It was beautiful, the winding waterfall gushing down the rocks, watching it flow. She sat, in deep thought, things between Lucifer and Michael were getting tense, she was scared for the future.

''You don't need to worry about us, my little cherub.'' Lucifer's voice mixed eloquently with the sound of the waves slowly connecting the lake below.

''It's part of my job, I couldn't help it if I tried.'' She shrugged, she stared at the water, taking in the fresh air.

''I know that things aren't simple, they never will be, just know you will always have me. I have never spoken to anyone in such a tone before, you should be honoured, little one.'' This made her accumulate, she leaned back into hold, he was a median temperature. It was nice.

''My Lucifer.'' She grinned in thought. ''You always have been the most intriguing, I will never give up on you, I promise you that.'' She craned her neck to look at the blonde, before pressing the smallest of kisses to his jaw. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so honest with himself, and she wouldn't again for some time.

---

''My dear, this is too dangerous. You are not a warrior, you are a healer and an abettor. I can't let you, I'm sorry.'' Crowley's gruff rumble soaked the thin air, she wanted to fight for her angels- with her angels. She held the power, but not the will.

''I was made for this moment, this is my purpose, I have to do something.'' She pleads, tears stinging her eyes.

''Listen to me, darling, they need you alive more than you're help. Listen to what I'm saying, although I am nonpartisan, I can't remain unbiased. I fear that my little, fascination with you is what keeps you safe. The angels may not love it, but it keeps you safe whilst they handle their own. They want you safe, so that is what I will do.'' His short monologue seemed to flip something within Y/n, she stayed silent for a moment, reeling in thought. Hearing his repetition of the word safe just made her wish the same for her angels.

''I-I guess you're right. I don't want anything to happen to them, you remember last time, when it all-'' She couldn't bring herself to continue, relishing in the agony of remembering when Lucifer was cast.

''Yes, my dear, and you nearly got caught in the crossfire. It can't happen again, there is no other being like you and there never will be. The stories are that God nearly killed himself trying to create you, you are everything he wanted humanity to be.'' She smiled at this, he was trying to cheer her up with a bit of complimenting. ''Even if you are stubborn.'' She slapped his chest, as a farce and let out a small cachinnate.

---

Everyone was silent, things started to get heavy on thought and reason. No one could think of a word to say.

''One more for good measure, then we will asses you, Y/n.'' Uh, what does that mean?

---

The quiet air that surrounded the two was comforting and safe, content and peaceful. Y/n and Gabriel sat opposite one another, his wings lay in her lap as she did what she does best. Her hands traced up the outer lining of his wings, from top to bottom, before moving in the the inner feathers. She rolled a collection of feathers between her fingers each time she moving a few inches down, softly and gently. Working out the stress and the tightness that wound itself within them, he holds onto her knee, using it as a gripping post every once in a while. It wasn't a pain thing though, it was quite the opposite, the gratification and the bliss he was receiving from such a special moment was intense.

''I don't know why, I think your wings are my favourite.'' She hums out, brushing out the feathers she had been fixing in a swoop from the height of his wing and downwards, before moving on to the next section.

''Oh, really?'' Gabriel couldn't resist the playful tone residing in his comment, but that was what Y/n loved, he wasn't afraid to tease her.

''Without a doubt, they're mesmerising. Such a beautiful colour, and shape. They suit you so well.'' Slowly, she leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before gently pulling herself back.

''Come on, sweetheart! You can do better than that-'' His voice is cut off by a staggering gasp as she unwinds a knot in his feather,  gripping her knee tight, he swoons.

She doesn't say a word, yet she picks up her head again, craning towards the angel's face. While continuing to brush out his ailerons of flight, she kisses him again, direct and strong. She moves against his lips with such care but much passion, Gabriel couldn't resist the slip of his tongue to her, she wasn't in any way complaining.

---

''Okay, that was upsetting to watch.'' Richard grumbles, we find ourselves back inside the green room, standing in front of us remain Chuck and Gabriel.

''You're telling me.'' I let a slanted expression reach my face.

''You mean you still don't remember?'' Gabriel's frown tugs at my heart, I feel something for him, but not as immense as what we have been watching.

''I have something that might work, but it might...do something?'' Chuck gives out a nervous chuckle, small and barely there.

''Do it, I need her back, I don't care about the consequences unless it hurts her.'' The strain and torment in his intonation is dismal.

''It won't hurt her, but it might- never mind, if it happens then it happens, if it doesn't then you will be happy you didn't know.'' Chuck walks towards me with purpose and I cower back slightly, a stern alarm on my face.

''W-Woah there, what are you doing?'' I reach out my hands in a 'stop' motion, he grabs hold of them.

''Bringing back your memory, I need you to focus on the moments you just watched, think about how you felt during them.'' I thought back, I felt as if I was the girl in the grass, and in heaven and the girl who loved the angels. I revelled in the select memories, the beautiful memories. ''Good, carry on thinking about them and how you felt.''

I felt a warmth surge through my hands, as they remained connected to Chuck's.

''It's working.'' I peek open my eyes and look down at our hands. Mine are white and hold a holy glow, my eyes widen as I look at the magic.

''This is you?'' I ask, Chuck shakes his head.

''It's you, well, it's us. You have your own powers, but this kind can only be used when I am touching you. You know you have angelic advantages, from the show?'' He explains in a way I understand, I nod. ''D-Do you want to remember this world? Along with your true one?'' I bit my lip before answering.

''I would, some people I can't let go.'' I look towards Rob, who stood off towards the side, the group of my colleagues still in shock of the situation, some whispering to each other.

''I see. Are you ready?'' The heat is getting more intense in my hands, a burning hot white light shines from then.

''I think so.''

''I need to warn you, you may not like what could happen next.'' He unclasps our hands before reaching up to sandwich my head between them. It wasn't painful, it was peculiar, my body went numb. This took around a minute before he took his hands of me.

My mind and his instantly travelled to a secluded world. It was barren and empty, but beautiful, Red sand and burnt skies surrounded me, small oasis' patched around. The sun was in a constant set, never going up nor down.

''Where are we?'' I asked Chuck, he was dressed in a white pant and shirt, I looked down towards myself. I was enclosed by a gorgeous lengthy white garment, a golden sash across my waist.

''We're in your head. How are you feeling?'' I smile.

''Like myself, thanks Chuck, nice to meet you by the way- can't believe I haven't said that yet, after all Gabe has told me.''

''Um, okay, this is going to be awkward to ask. What do you feel? When you look at me, that is.''

''Hm...'' I look into his soft eyes. I felt as if I belonged there, like it was home. My whole existence within his soul.

''That's- not good.'' He must have read me, because I didn't say that out loud. I widen my eyes, starting to panic. ''I-I mean, it could be? It depends how you feel on the matter.'' He tries to soothe me.

''Explain.'' Was all I said.

''We- well. I've linked us, not on purpose. You're life's fulfilment is with me now, along with the angels. I'm not your creator anymore, I'm your equal. Yet you are not light nor dark, your the meld of both, a mediator if you will. The love for the angels, can be found within myself now. I'm sorry, I never thought it would actually happen.'' I'm guessing this is the first time he has ever apologised, I don't know how but- I feel like I know everything about him. The almost humanitarian way he dabbles jn his powers is confronting.

''Yes, that's another edge you have, you know everything about me now, you know who I am and what I've done.'' He looks ashamed and off to the side.

''You may not be proud of who you are, but I am-'' I hold his hand and turn his head with my other. ''You're the creator, just because you have done bad things, does not mean you're a bad person.'' I feel like I've known him my whole life, I technically have. He remains silent.

''We will have our time, go seem them. If you ever need to see me and I'm not around, think of this place and I'll meet you here, no matter how far apart we are.'' He extracts us from the sanctuary.

I'm back in my own body, looking around at the awkward faces of my peers. We must have been stood, staring into space for some time.

''Hey-''I turn to Gabe as he speaks, walking towards him before I stop dead in my tracks. I swiftly run back to Chuck, slamming my lips against his, I feel my heart stutter in the shock of my own actions. He kisses me back with much more passion, before I pull away. I look at Rob, his mouth his hung open, using my power I look into his head.

He's shocked and- jealous. He thinks it's invigorating to see a version of himself kiss you. Realising he could've admitted his feelings to you, perhaps you wouldn't have gone back to them.

''Well- okay, that's new.'' Gabriel mutters, his voice cracks in the middle of his speech.

I turn and run towards Gabe.

''Don't worry, you're still my favourite.'' He yanks me into a hug, pulling me into a compact hug, I wrap my legs around his waist.

He whispers some enochian into my ear, I bite my lip and smile. Along the lines of 'should I book the hotel now or later?'.

''You know full well we don't need to do that.'' I couldn't help but tease him back, he sighs in content, happy to have us back.

''I'm- confused, what the fuck is going on?'' Sebastian calls.

''If you want, you can make them forget, Y/n.'' Chuck announces, a valley of yelling and protests wash over me from the Supernatural cast.

''Can I? It could be for the best...'' I trail off, the cast look at me with hurt in their eyes, I decide to communicate with Rob through his head.

'Rob' He looks around, alarmed. 'I'm in your mind, don't panic'

'How could you? I know you aren't meant to be here but please don't make me forget you' I could hear the pain within him.

'I won't completely, you'll know me, but not as who I am. You will know me as your colleague and friend, I'll visit you'

'I love you, I'm sorry I never said it' I heard his heart shatter.

'I love you too, maybe we can develop something in the future' Maybe I was asking too much of myself, maybe not.

''You ready to go back?'' Chuck waltzes toward me and Gabriel. ''Other angels want to see you, I can hear them, it's rather annoying.'' I smile at the thought of seeing them all again, this time knowing who they are to me.

''I think so.'' I turn back to say my goodbyes.

''Misha, you are one of the most genuine and kind people this Earth can offer, I'm so happy I met you.'' I move forward to hug him, channelling my power, as soon as I leave this plane it will activate- leaving them in the state they were before.

''Mr. Sheppard, you smarmy bastard, never change. The world couldn't take it. I'll see you soon.'' I step forward to hug him.

''My, my, Pellegrino, a tear? Not going soft on me, are you?'' He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at me. ''I'll miss you and your karaoke.'' I hug him, he holds on a little longer, refusing to let me go. I look at him with sad eyes, before turning to Sebastian.

''You and your attitude Roche, you're such a light person, you'll see me again and I promise you that. Keep up the humour, you're not yourself without it.'' I hug him, ejecting a powerful wave.

''Richard, I will admit you are my best friend, even when you're trying to sleep with everything that walks. Take care of Robbie for me, I won't be too long before my next visit, so hold on.'' I grip him in my arms, pulling gently on his beard as we part, before getting mockingly swatted away.

I couldn't sat goodbye to Rob, looking at his disheartened face. ''R-Robbie-'' I tried not to cry, saying goodbye to so many friends is breaking me.

''I can't explain how much you mean to me, I love you, in every way you can imagine. I love you all.'' I hug Rob, not wanting to let go.

''Please don't go.'' His whimper makes me finally let out tears.

''I need to. I promise I'll return.'' I think about my next action, before deciding on it.

'Pull away if you don't want this.' I say to him, his head is swimming with agony.

Kissing him, very lightly, I feel tears mix on my lips. I pull away before I get too attached.

''Gonna miss you, so much.'' He whispers to me, clutching my shirt in his hands.

''I have to go, bye Benedict, till we meet again.'' I try to spin a comedic affect into my words, stepping away from my best friends.

Chuck holds out his hands, Gabriel and I connect to them. I shut my eyes, I can't face what I'm leaving behind. I feel a golden illumination against my shut eyelids.

It's not forever, but I will miss them.

[neonponders]

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember who originally posted about Steve accidentally calling Billy, Daddy, and Billy - naturally - going feral for it.

But daydreaming about this helped me sleep so ~ enjoy! (If anyone knows the post I’m talking about, I’ll happily add a link to it in a reblog and the ao3 notes.)

Read on ao3 here.

Featuring reunion/aged up trope ~ (I didn’t really keep canon in mind for this, but if you want it to be post season 3, that’s fine.)

It’s a strange twilight zone, meeting someone again. Being complete strangers with a history.

Not the best history, either, so Steve just had to laugh to himself while he sat on Billy Hargrove’s couch. The guy looked up from the kitchen counter across the open floor plan. “What?”

And Steve might be internally combusting a bit-

A lot.

Because Billy’s hot. Like...Steve can actually appreciate it now. It’s not the first time he feels like a fool for being too slow. Billy was a looker in high school; easily one of the guys who completed puberty first and knew it. Made him an asshole for it. And people liked assholes.

Steve guessed he just didn’t do it right. Being the mean guy. But that was far behind them, now, and Billy’s late twenties were doing him favors.

Steve supposed if young, spry, Adonis Billy came with being a complete dick, then he could appreciatively leave him behind. Because Billy wasn’t a complete dick anymore. And the man strolling back across the room with a pair of whiskey sours was definitely, 100%, burning a hole through Steve’s jeans better than the show-off from high school ever did.

Steve reckoned Adonis never got laid nearly as much as Zeus or Poseidon anyway, which he only knew from Robin’s ramblings about her Greek theatre class. Steve earned a distinct wrinkling of her nose when he said, “Lettuce? Adonis is symbolized with lettuce? Yeah, no. Aphrodite, that cougar, fell for a twink while Daddy Poseidon was getting whoever he wanted with his beard and all.”

Robin had barked a laugh but chided, “Please don’t ever call Poseidon, “Daddy,” ever again. Oh my god.”

Joke’s on her, because now she referred to the gods and heroes by whatever name Steve gave them.

And the joke was on Steve. Because he was definitely the twink in this new situation he found himself in.

Billy had always been stacked. But the guy walking through the university gallery to make Steve’s heart stop beating in his chest was something else. He wasn’t even bigger, really. Something just...happened as soon as a person could see 30 closer than 20. Steve had first noticed it with Robin, because they spent the most time together. Obviously that crush had been snuffed out with her gentle coming-out to him years ago, but Steve still had eyes in his head. Robin aged really well. Steve had begun to wonder if he was aging nearly as gracefully.

Billy, that bastard, strolled right up to him with a freaking mustache of all things, invited them to lunch the next day - where he had switched to clean shaven - and now sat on his couch in his newly built apartment complex with a sweating, rattled Steve. He had neatly pulled him aside before the three of them parted the restaurant to invite Steve over for drinks that evening.

Steve was unprepared for the sculpted scruff on the man’s face now. He’d never seen a guy switch facial hair styles like he was changing shirts. Frankly, he didn’t know anybody who could just grow it that easily.

Steve gulped loudly around his whiskey sour.

It was Billy’s turn to laugh under his breath. “You okay? You never answered me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little out of breath. “I’m just...reeling, here. I think the last conversation we had involved a fist fight.”

Billy laughed again and Steve’s eyes trailed over the shirt fitting perfectly around his built shoulders. Maybe Billy is bigger. In like a...domestic sort of way. Like he still had all his muscle but didn’t throw a fit over a bowl of pasta. Steve is still taller. Steve still had that, at least, but he sure felt like his second puberty hadn’t graced him yet.

Billy was talking. Pay attention, Steve.

Something about Robin. Steve replied, and hoped he was answering close to whatever Billy had said, “Robin teaches there and some of her students were in the exhibition. It’s an art nerd thing. Everybody’s involved, even if it’s not your subject.”

Steve couldn’t tell if the pause was Billy processing or if Steve had been completely off the mark. Deflect. Reroute! his brain told him, so he asked, “Did we ever ask how you knew about the gallery?”

“Max goes to school there.”

“Oh,” Steve chirped bluntly. “Small world.”

Billy hummed a sound low in his chest. Something vibrated inside Steve and he closed his eyes in a hard blink, grasping at flimsy straws for composure. Billy finished, “I was in the area. Definitely a pleasant surprise to see your familiar face.”

“My Lego head?” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “I guess this block always did stand out.”

Billy huffed a surprised sound, like he hadn’t expected that, but he let it tumble into easy laughter. “You look good. I never saw you with short hair.”

His fingers pushed the arching swoop of Steve’s fringe behind his ear. The briefest touch across his temple finishing on his neck...

I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Thanks. That goes for the both of us.”

Just like he almost missed never snatching a chance with high school Billy, Steve only kinda missed never getting his hands on that mullet. Only to know how soft that hair actually was. Not like Billy needed it, of course. Truly absurd, how he rocked any hair situation on his head that wasn’t shaped like a Lego person’s.

Steve finished his whiskey in the next gulp.

He could feel Billy’s laser blue eyes notice this, and then he stood from the couch. “I’m getting us some waters.”

“Okay,” Steve chimed dumbly. Feeling dumb.

Jesus Christ, it’s Scoops all over again. You suck. You suck-

“Poseidon liked a twink too, you nimrod,” Robin had teased back. “His name was Anteros.”

“And he dies too, right?”

“Nope. He’s basically Poseidon’s husband and chauffeur.”

“Aw. Good for Daddy P.”

Billy returned. “Are you one of these people who likes seltzers?”

Steve blindly took the can while his thoughts slammed mutinously into, Daddy B. B is kinda cute. Shorter-

“Thanks-

Billy.

-daddy.”

Steve opened the can before it sank in what he’d just said. Carbonation gently kissed his skin as he held the can to his lips but didn’t drink. Some may or may not have landed in his lap before he lowered it to see Billy’s unreadable face.

“Oh my god.” Steve rushed to place the can on the coffee table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Did you...?”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, removing a hand as if to physically defend against the words in the air.

“Steve-”

His words came muffled from where he hid inside his hands. “Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up - to go where, he didn’t really know. Probably best to just leave at this point. Way to choke. Way to absolutely choke, Harrington. You don’t even know if Billy’s bi and you just deep-dived into WEIRD-

“I’m really sorry,” he rushed as he stepped around the coffee table.

“Steve.” Billy gripped his arm and pulled right back onto the couch as if it were easy. Steve more than landed in his spot, he landed flush against Billy. His thigh felt Billy’s warmth, and his lips stayed parted to keep breathing when he realized how close their faces were. 

Billy this close was something else, and Steve didn’t have the brain power to navigate it.

“Say it again.”

So it took him a long minute to absorb that. Was he seeing stars? So much for breathing.

“Huh?”

Steve’s lashes sagged heavily over his eyes when Billy leaned tantalizingly close. Either of them could stick their tongues out and taste the other’s lips.

Don’t, he commanded his mutinous subconscious.

“Say it again, Steve.”

He wondered which was louder: his thunderous heart or the racket in his brain trying to turn rusty gears. He whispered against Billy’s skin, “I didn’t mean to say it.”

A hand, gentle but there, found Steve’s nape. “I’m telling you to say it on purpose.”

Was he making fun of him? Steve couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent more than a handful of hours with him. But his voice made that thing in Steve’s body vibrate and his brain had officially declared itself a lost cause.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Steve closed the gap - tiny as it was - and involuntarily moaned at the softness of Billy’s lips. The hand on his nape tightened and another came to hold the front of his throat; not pressing against his windpipe, but Billy’s fingertips held Steve’s jaw in place and his palm surely felt the drumming of Steve’s heart.

Steve’s tongue couldn’t help itself. He touched the plush skin of Billy’s upper lip, ever so lightly-

Billy groaned, wanton and hungry as he pushed entirely into Steve’s personal space. The latter gasped at the sound, and then he really did see stars as Billy’s tongue fucked against his own. He tasted sour and sweet and the citrus mixed with Billy’s natural taste in such a way that Steve tilted his head for more, pushed right back into Billy’s space.

Steve’s body rotated enough that his knee bumped into Billy’s. Then Billy was gripping that joint hard enough to bruise so that he could pull Steve all the way around to straddle him. Steve clumsily climbed onto his lap, grateful for the influx of air as Billy planted wet kisses and pressed his tongue into Steve’s pulse. He didn’t really know what the boundaries were anymore. This was explosive and sudden and Steve sat, unsure, higher up on Billy’s thighs-

“Ahh!” he burst when Billy gripped his hips and yanked his pelvis flush against him. Steve’s moan clipped short into a small ache of pain. The way his jeans tightened with the stretch of his thighs crimped into his already throbbing erection.

Billy opened his jeans. Steve’s voice escaped with his gasp when the colder backs of his fingers touched his belly as he dipped into Steve’s underwear. He stood up on his knees to give Billy the room to free his erection, and Steve couldn’t help the moan that exhaled out of him when he sat back down, feeling Billy’s soft shirt against his red cockhead.

Steve shivered as Billy’s hands slid up and around his body, mapping out Steve’s topography and shoving his shirt as high as Steve’s collarbones. Steve felt like a lewd wet dream: an exposed, panting mess on Billy’s lap. His heart ricocheted around his ribs with the sharp tickle of stubble, and he whimpered as it scraped over his nipple and chest.

“Your shirt,” he heaved, knowing he was dripping precum. “Billy-”

“Call me what you did before.” He reached into the back of Steve’s jeans and gripped a handful of his ass that had Steve lurching forward and bucking into the softness of that shirt and tummy, the warmth of Billy’s body. Steve whined when Billy held him down, unable to move.

“Say it. Whatever you want. Just say it for me.”

Steve bought a little time by kissing him, hard. Hard enough to make Billy lie back into the couch, his head tilted up to moan into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips nuzzled the side of his lips and began an exploratory trail across Billy’s cheek and jaw, down to his throat.

“I just...wanna feel all of this on me. I wanna feel your beard so much I’ll still feel it tomorrow... Daddy.”

Steve’s voice pitched to the ceiling when a hand gripped his hair. Billy’s other hand released his ass cheek to push encouragingly on Steve’s lumbar the same time he drew Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. Steve gripped the couch upholstery behind Billy’s shoulders as he bucked against him, rutting like a teenager. Billy’s own jaw fell for his moan to escape when Steve’s ass and backs of his thighs moved over his own cock trapped in his pants.

Steve tried to slow down a little, to rub against him without making the fabric chaff. “Daddy, what do want?”

If he didn’t feel Billy’s heartbeat before, he sure as hell did now. Steve felt it against his hands as he sought to know the contours of Billy’s shoulders and chest. He watched Billy’s swallow through the gorgeous neck that lay open to him as Billy gazed up at him. One of his hands traced the gently twitching artery on the side. Steve began to pepper slow, audible kisses against his face. When he landed on Billy’s lips, Billy kissed back, and when he wandered all the way up to Billy’s temple, Billy let him. Only his hands moved sluggishly between Steve’s thighs and his waist, seeking skin underneath his shirt.

Steve came back down to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Daddy?”

It was a blur of movement punctuated by Steve’s surprised yelp of glee as Billy threw him onto his back on the couch. Billy kissed the laughter out of his flushed, red throat, growling in satisfaction at how those bubbles of mirth sank into breathy moans.

“I’ve wanted you for years, pretty boy.”

Steve’s brain didn’t absorb that so much as his body did. Pinballs of emotion and sensation darted to and from his groin. He lifted his leg to rest across the back of the couch and to give Billy access to whatever he wanted.

Strong hands moved carefully - fondly - over Steve’s thighs. A stuttering breath left him when Billy clutched the backs of his legs. A sweet ache to have the muscle squeezed there.

“Don’t hold back on me now, baby,” Billy taunted, pressing his hands into the couch on either side of Steve and aligning his bulge with Steve’s hole and undercarriage still inside his jeans. “Let me hear you.”

Steve’s other leg wrapped around him and he lifted his pelvis to grind against Billy’s front. Billy’s bravado melted into an anguished, blissed-out frown as he shut his eyes against the sensation. When he opened them, Steve held his cock in hand, pumping himself in time with his pelvis rolling up to meet Billy.

It was sloppy and desperate and Steve didn’t think he ever did this even as a teenager. It had all been a small town rush to get hands or mouths on skin and get rid of the stigmatizing V-card. Except when Steve was in love, and allowed to take his time...

Steve didn’t know if he was in love now. But as another wave of ticklish warmth darted through him, Steve laughed a little.

“What?” Billy asked, not unlike the first time.

“I just...I just like this, that’s all,” Steve admitted. “You feel good. You smell good. Ahh! I’m close.”

“Let me see you, baby. Let me taste the mess you make.”

That didn’t so much as nudge Steve off the cliff as it drop kicked him into his orgasm.

“Hahh! Daddy, I’m there! I’m there...”

The mind-halting knot of sensation burst inside him with a force that let Steve not even care that he craned his face toward the arm of the couch, moaning and splashing his hair over the upholstery like a romance novel cover.

He realized somewhere in the middle that Billy had grasped his cock and was the reason his climax kept going. Milking little dribbles of cum out of him. Steve hadn’t cum like this in years, and he lay riveted to Billy hastening his rhythm to chase his own cliff edge.

The furrowed brows of concentration on Billy’s face were wiped off by Steve gripping his shirt and yanking him down for Steve to taste him, to plunder his mouth and feel that soft material against his own bare, messy torso. 

Billy shuddered and pushed, pushed against Steve like he meant to bury his cockhead inside as he came. The visual sent an aching thrill into Steve’s core, knowing how Billy looked when he came and knowing that he’d cum inside. It made Steve eager to feel the pressure of his thrusts and the aftershocks when he pulled out to repeat it all again.

Steve had just cum like a seventeen year old and wanted to go all the way, with Billy’s hands all over his backside and his scruff against Steve’s ass cheeks-

Billy’s hand brushed over his hair and eased around to cradle his head. “What are you thinking behind those big eyes?”

Steve blinked drunkenly up at him even though it certainly wasn’t whiskey giving him this high. “My eyes?”

“Mmhm,” Billy hummed through lips pressing into a content smile. He hovered over his elbows, still framing Steve in but not crowding him. Fingertips pressed little swirls over his scalp, drifting around his ear. “I like your big, doe eyes.”

No one ever commented on his eyes. His hair, obviously. His butt. His shoulders. His moles. Billy gazed down at him, searching through Steve’s thoughts. The way he always had, really.

“Thinkin’ about you creaming me instead of your pants.”

Billy turned his head to the side so he didn’t laugh directly in Steve’s face. “Only if I’m not dreaming this time.”

This time.

God, Steve liked what that implied.

His arms came around Billy’s shoulders, loving the broadness and weight of the man on top of him. He kissed him softly, bumping his nose against Billy’s and eliciting a groan while Billy tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Again,” he begged through the kiss. “I want you again, Daddy.”

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 4

Welcome back! Hope you enjoy✨

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Violence, cursing, shouting, and fighting. No blood mention. Just broken bones and stuff.

2.1k+ words [originally 1.6k but I revised it and added more details!]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5 Part 6

Sensing another one behind me, I went low and struck his leg with mine, using his fall to punch his chin with my right fist this time, being careful to use a controlled amount of force or else the nerve I hit will result to permanent brain injury and can be fatal.

I got up, swift in my actions as I saw the guy with a raised baseball bat heading towards me from my left flank, and the other one from the right, fast.

On reflex, I leaned back, the bat that was aimed at me hitting his comrade on the shoulder instead. Guy's lucky, actually. He would have suffered internal bleeding if it bashed the side of his skull.

Four down, two to go.

I took my stance once again to ready myself. This dude was a foot taller than me, with muscles packed with raw strength, but even so, pale in comparison to Tai'chi's p—

Stop thinking that! Focus!

"Smash her head Dan!" The man behind him yelled.

This 'Dan' went straight to me with his bat raised with intent once more.

Breathe in.

Everything slowed down. I let my heart rate decelerate, my hearing sharpened, my sense of smell heightening even further.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over. Years of practice, days of pain from training, each motion engraved to my entire body with purpose. To defend not only myself, but also those who are looked down upon, discriminated and stepped on like dirt. My parents had always taught me to defend myself. Me. Don't get me wrong, my parents are good people, albeit wary of the other races in our community. But the moment I left the roof of my home, I knew it was time for me to defend someone other than myself. I don't give a damn about where we come from or what kind of blood flows within our veins. I will protect those who need protecting, and set anyone straight and down to the ground when they deserve it.

Breathe out.

At the last few moments, with my eyes still shut, I changed my form. I followed his aura and pictured out the shape that was drawing up to land a serious blow to my head. Dan is solid and heavy, but everyone has at least one weakness. And this guy is not spared from that.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I opened my right fist, right foot forward and relaxed my arms, my legs serving as a firm foundation for my upper body. With the bat inches away from me, I smoothly dodged to the side, using my palm to push away the hand holding the weapon and punched a vital pressure point right under his bicep.

I bent my legs even lower and struck the center of his ribs with my thumb, closing my hands as I jabbed his sciatic nerve on each side at the same time, both located in the middle line of the thigh between the groin and the knee. A solid blow to those nerve points will cause intense pain and shock to the person, along with a temporary immobility of the feet.

a/n: Self defense 101! Remember that dear readers♥

With the support of my left leg, I went behind the man, standing straight and proud. Calm, I opened my eyes when I heard his fall, staring right into the fearful ones of the moron that started all of this.

"Y-You- You killed them!"

Is he that dumb?

"Correction, I didn't. I knocked them unconscious is all. And the fellow that attacked me first? Well, he passed out from the pain of his now funny-looking arm." I stated flatly as I trudged to where he was standing.

"S-Stay away from me! Monster! Freak!" He stumbled, his ass on the ground and away from me until he felt a tree trunk on his back.

I scoffed and withdrew my knuckle dusters back under my baggy sleeve.

"You wanna know who the real monster is?" I stopped and held him in place with my scrutinizing gaze. He was trembling like a wimp at this point.

"It's you.

"You and your disgusting racist friends.

"You, along with all the people who view and treats anyone other than humankind as lowlifes and pests that are meant to be squished and eradicated from the society.

"No, it's you, and the ones who have the same mentality as you, who are monsters under the guise of a human."

I paused, not even blinking as I bore holes into his skull.

"I am human, down to every inch of my being. But unlike you, I respect and treat everyone, regardless of kind or gender, and to those who deserve it, fair and right."

Before I could continue, I scented new people coming into the scene. It was the teaching staff, along with the uni's guard.

Shocked of what they have seen, they turned towards me, angry, surprised, confused expressions on different faces.

"What have you done?!" A female, human instructor, looking to be around her late 20s shouted.

"Ma'am, if you would just let me explain—"

"You are hereby expelled from this institution, young lady!"

All the color of my skin left me as I heard the words I have dreaded even before I set foot in the campus grounds.

"Now let's not go straight to conclusions. We need to deal with this professionally AND properly Miss Holson. You are also not in authority to suspend this student." A heavily bearded dwarven professor, clad in a brown suit and Oxfords, told her off firmly.

"What are you saying Mr. Dulrik? Look at her! Look at this! She murdered students and oh my God, is that the dean's son?!"

For the love of— she blind? Why does everybody think I killed someone???

"Ma'am they are—" I was about to tell her but got cut off, again!

"Helpmehelpmehelpme!" He scrambled away from me and ran to the group of teachers and hugged the young instructor. "I don't know what came over her! She just attacked us out of nowhere!"

The audacity of this fucking bitch!

"Pardon me? Attacked you? YOU were the one who followed me out here! You and your" —I gestured to the bodies laying flat on the ground— " buddies over there!"

"She is lying! The orc was with her and and and—"

It dawned on me that I almost forgot about Tai'chi. My eyes widened, and I frantically scanned the area around for him. And there he was, standing by the oak tree, right where I told him not to move.

He seemed...irritated?

Oh no. At me?

"I have not moved an inch from where I am standing ever since I planted my feet here." He said with his deep baritone voice, turning to confront the staff. "What she's speaking is the truth. They were the ones who followed her here and attacked her, first."

"And how can we be sure you are telling the truth, orc?" Miss Holson replied spitefully.

Even the teacher, huh? Her odor smells like vomit. I mean, I knew she was...foul, but I thought it was because of the situation. Guess not.

Tai'chi did not respond. Instead, he moved to look at me in the eyes. His gaze, searching, but not in an awful way. Was he asking me what I'll do?

"How about we discuss this in the office, shall we?" An elderly professor spoke. She was wearing the university's formal teaching uniform together with black, flat, closed toe sandals. "And Miss Holson, please quiet down. As Mr. Dulrik said, we should not jump into baseless conclusions."

Miss Holson fumed and shut her mouth, holding the coward in her arms.

"Now then, Miss...?"

"Blackbell."

The woman paused. I caught a smell of surprise and... astonishment?

She cleared her throat "Well, then Miss Blackbell, please follow us to the Dean's office, along with your, companion."

Weird.

"Oh and Mr. Smith, kindly call for assistance and take the unconscious students to the infirmary to be treated and looked unto. Thank you." She told the guard. With that, she and the rest of the faculty started walking back.

I glanced at Tai'chi once more to find him, again, staring. I approached him warily, expecting him to be mad at me.

"Uh. Hi?"

I let out a long exhale when he replied, with a slight tug of his lips, his tusk jutting out. "Hi."

I fidgeted, trying to come up with words to explain myself.

"I uh, uhm. Are you mad?"

With his brow raised, "Why would I be?"

Yeah why would he be?

"I-I never told why I keep wearing my mask." I stuttered, "You see I—"

"You two! Start moving before I force you to." A teacher yelled at us from a distance.

"We'll talk later, Pearl. For now let's get this resolved first. I know for a fact that they won't expel you unless they ignore the ill intentions of the ones who attempted to harm you first. But better be safe than sorry, he was the dean's son afterall."

"Yeah... Thanks. We should.. go." I turned and started walking along his side.

******pov shift for a bit*******

Little did Pearl know, he was thinking about how...nice, yeah that's the word, definitely not sexy, you were when he witnessed your skills in combat. It awakened something in him that it took a lot of control not to get aroused there and then, which was the real reason why he stood there, unmoving from his place. Not once did he leave his eyes from you, almost jumping to help you when the guy with the baseball bat was closer than we would have liked. But oh no, he was not surprised, he was astonished and shookt , amazed when you pulled that last technique, sending the human plummeting to the ground almost soundlessly. And the way you stood right after, he knew he was smitten. That proud and intense aura you gave off was enough to make him bow down at your feet. He could feel it. He could smell it. That was his secret, he can scent people and catch any mood shift they make. Even though he told her that her eyes and brows gave it away, it was not entirely true as he could smell, literally, you and the changes on your scent.

Oh but little did he know you could to. Just not as observant as he is.

:>

*******************************

Wow— when I copy pasted the original thing from my notes to my drafts in Tumblr I was like "okay, so. I should read it AGAIN before I post it if I wanna avoid more unnoticed mistakes and keep editing it again and again even though I posted it already! " And I never though it would lead me to adding almost a half thousand words and a pov shift— which i found interesting and really nice! Should I do it more often? Like little inserts of what Tai'chi or another characters thoughts in second pov in between fics if necessary? It's just, nice, to put them in and write all out about what they were thinking outside of Pearl's pov! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed reading❤

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square. 

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth. 

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him. 

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so… normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He’s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @tropes-and-tales​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ 

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

[starrynite7114]

Confessions

A/N: Good morning all! Hope you’re having a good week thus far. Another update for you lovely people! The Angel jealous headcanon was definitely fun to write! Jealous Angel is always a win. 

Things you never knew and Everything is you will be update next along with two more requests that I’ll be posting. 

Hope you all are staying safe during these times! Love you all! 

Whoever requested this piece, hope you enjoy! <3

92: “ Are you drunk? ” 93: “ Are you high? ” with angel - anon

Word count: 4265

Masterlist

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @nakusaych9 : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @aquamento : @prdsdjarin

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment below or message me! <3

CREDIT  TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

People always thought that you were an odd person due to the people you choose to surround yourself with. You were new in town a few years back and somehow, someway, you were adopted by the Mayans. 

But you knew it wasn’t an accident. 

You had served in the Marines with Coco and throughout your service, you two had one another’s backs. You were the little sister he never had so when you finally decided to move away from San Diego, he suggested for you to move to Santo Padre. 

A low key town, with hardly any trouble.

But it was Coco, why did you even believe him? He always stretched the truth.

You couldn’t really be mad at Coco since you were able to meet Angel through him. A ridiculous crush you couldn’t believe you had that developed into something more. Angel wasn’t even your type, which was what Coco always reminded you. 

‘He’s too tall for you.’

‘He has too many tattoos.’

‘He’s a player.’

Coco was looking out for you, you knew that, but you could make your own mistakes. You were a grown woman. And maybe Angel wasn’t your type, but people always said the people you fell for was hardly your quintessential type. Angel just had this certain charm and aura. He was a flirt, had a cocky smirk, and he was so fucking tall. Height has always been a big thing for you, but tattoos on a man was not something you were into either. Angel Reyes? He wore his tattoos well and you honestly couldn’t look away.

You two first met when Coco went to visit you when you were finally discharged from the Marines. He brought Gilly along as well, but it was difficult for you to focus on anyone else besides Angel. The way he looked at you had you blushing, but you brushed it off as being in service for so long that any little glances from good looking men as himself would make you blush. Sure, you served with men in the Marines, but half of them were married, some were douches and some were nice. You just wanted to do your job and get back home safely. Interpersonal relationships always complicated things and in a battlefield it was needed, you learned the hard way.

You’ve been in Santo Padre for five years, and you didn’t imagine enjoying living in this ridiculously hot city, but you always found family in Coco, so you weren’t exactly surprised you chose to live in Santo Padre. Instead of moving up to Seattle where your blood relatives currently lived, you stayed in Santo Padre and set up a branch of your cousin’s tattoo shop there. Your cousin helped you set up four years ago and you’ve built up a clientele over the years. 

And for your Mayans, you made house calls or went to the clubhouse to do their tattoos. If you weren’t their chosen artist, you would send whoever their preferred artist was. 

Your clients were mostly Angel, Coco, Gilly and Bishop. The other Mayans had their preferences and you took no offense. They always took care of you, so you took care of them. You didn’t give a fuck what the assumption in town was. 

Sometimes, the prim and proper citizens were the worst.

You knew they were no angels, but you didn’t judge either. You’ve done your fair share of unforgivable sins, it was just part of the dog eat dog world you all lived in. 

Currently, you were at your office, watching Letty as she worked on some Algebra II homework. As a favor to your hermano, you took care of Letty till he could pick her up and if he couldn’t, she would stay with you. Celia has been gone for a few months now and you definitely saw the change in Letty. She was such a little shit when you first met her, but she was a good kid. 

“Good job, look at you, you are teachable.” You teased Letty, ruffling her hair. 

Letty laughed, flipping you off. “Your support means the world to me.” Letty wiped faked tears, making you laugh.

“God, you’re such a pain in the ass.” You chuckled as you shook your head. 

“But you love me.”

“I do, for some odd reason, I do.” You watched as she continued to do homework. Going back to your sketchbook, you were sketching a piece for Angel that you were going to place on yourself. You two had been dating for almost two years now. No matter how many times Coco warned you off, you two ended up dating. Coco didn’t even mind, when you told him you two were dating, Coco had only one thing to say.

‘No fucking at our house cause that’s just fucking weird.’

You currently lived with Coco and Letty since you never really saw a reason to move out and Coco didn’t want you to move out. So now, you have been living with Coco for five years and quite frankly, you wouldn’t want to change your living situation. 

It was having your own little family. Your older brother and niece, you smiled at the idea before focusing on your drawing again. 

Christmas was a month away and you wanted to surprise Angel for Christmas. It wasn’t much, but you knew he would appreciate it. 

“So, have you told him?” Letty broke you away from your sketch. 

“Told who, what?” You looked up at Letty who was smirking as she continued to do her math problems.

“Angel, have you told him you love him?” 

You rolled your eyes, releasing a sigh. You weren’t going to discuss your love life with a fucking teenager. But it was difficult, Letty was technically one of the few females you had around you. And to be quite honest, for a brat, she was wise, which she most likely obtained from her father. 

“I’m not going to discuss this with a teenager.” You threw a crumpled sketch paper at her, making Letty laugh.

“Come on, you don’t want to discuss it with your sobrina(niece)?” Letty’s smirk grew and you just laughed at her ridiculousness.

“There’s nothing to discuss. Angel is,” you sighed. “It’s complicated, half the time, I feel like Angel and I just have a casual relationship.” Which was the truth. Angel and you slept together often, much more often than you would like to admit, but it was hard to resist Angel. 

But you two never did anything together. Sure, you two hung around the clubhouse, your shop, but otherwise, he never took you out on a date or anything. You tried not to take offense since you knew how busy he was and the club had him doing odd hours. 

But at times, you just felt like you were a warm body he liked coming home to, or asking to come over when he was home.

He did ask you to be his girlfriend, and you two went on a few dates prior to you dating, but maybe once Angel landed you, he didn’t see why he should put forth effort. At the same time, whenever you two were together, you couldn’t even describe how much love you had for this guy. He always made you smile, he made your day better with his mere presence. 

God, you were more into him than he was into you. 

You were a part of a romantic comedy and Angel was the guy you dated before you met the one. 

This was comical.

Cause you were really hoping Angel was the one. 

“Why won’t you just talk to him?” Letty felt the answer was quite simple. Communication was key, which was something she was learning, no more running away. “Or you can dump him, you’re way out of Angel’s league anyway.”

“Stop, I’m not, I thought you like Angel.” 

“I do, but you know,” Letty shrugged. “You’re kind of the older sister I’ve always wanted and if he’s making you feel that way, he’s not worth it.”

“I’ll talk to him later and I’ll decide from there.” You smiled. “Aww, you’re so protective of me Leticia, I feel special.”

“Shut up.” Letty grumbled, but she smiled as well. “How hard is it to say I love you?”

“Can you say I love you?” You quirk an eyebrow at Letty, slightly challenging her. 

“Of course I can, I say it to you all the time.” Letty scoffed. “I love you. See was that so hard? Pretend I’m Angel.”

“No, absolutely not.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Come on, I know I’m not as tall and I don’t have that awful beard, but you can still pretend.” Letty offered.

“Leticia, I’m not going to pretend you’re my boyfriend.” You went back to sketching, feeling Letty’s eyes on you for a moment before she went back to her homework.

After a few minutes of silence, you broke it.

“Okay, but you are absolutely not allowed to use this against me.”

“Come on, of all the people here, you’re the one person I don’t collect blackmail material on.”

You laughed at Letty’s comment reminding you of Coco. He always teased you, but when push comes to shove, he was your go to, until Angel at least.

“I love you, Angel. If you don’t feel the same way, I get it. If you’re bored cause you already got me, I get it. But just let me know so I don’t fall for you any further.” You let out a sigh of relief, feeling good to say those words out loud. You heard sniffling and you placed your sketchbook down, making your way to Letty. “You okay?”

“Why would you make yourself so vulnerable like that?” Letty wiped her tears. 

“Letty, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know, this is your fault.”

You both laugh, hugging one another. 

Unbeknownst to you, Angel was outside your door, hearing the whole exchange. He arrived when Letty first asked if you had told him that you loved him. He wasn’t going to lie, hearing that made him smile like a fool. But hearing you say that confession about him being bored with you? That hurt him. 

How could you think that?

With everything going down with the club, he hasn’t been able to spend as much time as he wanted with you. Whenever he was done with whatever he was doing, he always called you up to make sure he could at least be with you when he had some free time even if it’s just to sleep with one another and occasionally fuck.

Alright, almost always fucked.

But he figured it was a good stress reliever for you both.

What he neglected to realize was that your mind could wander especially with previous relationships. He was such an idiot. 

He loves you too, more than he could express. 

Angel was going to do better. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you didn’t matter to him. You were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There was no other person he saw himself with. Maybe it was too early, but he didn’t care. He never comforted with social norms and he wasn’t going to start now.

Feelings were feelings and his feelings for you were intense.

He was going to talk to you tonight, then he’ll worship you as he always did.

“Did you order food? I’m starving.” He heard Letty question. 

“You’re so demanding, brat.” He smiled at that comment.

Angel figured he should make his presence known now. He knocked on your opened door. You and Letty looked up at the door and found Angel holding two bags from your favorite sandwich place a few shops away from your shop.

“Angel!” You really hoped Angel didn’t hear anything you had said. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah baby, I just walked in. What’s up junior?” It was a nickname he fondly called Letty and she honestly didn’t mind. Making his way over to you, he dropped a quick kiss on your lips before placing the bags on your desk.

You were thankful your sketchbook was closed since you didn’t want Angel to see your present, if you two were still together then. 

“Nothing, is EZ here? I need help with Algebra.” Letty looked around, obviously EZ was not here. 

“You’re not gonna ask me? How do you know I’m not good at algebra?” Angel challenged.

“Are you?” Letty countered

“I actually am, junior.” 

You watched as Angel pulled up a chair right beside Letty and helped her with class. You hated how everyone assumed that Angel did not know anything simply due to the fact that EZ was the golden boy. But Angel was intelligent in his own right. 

Angel looked up at you, smiling as you ate your Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Realizing he loves you was definitely interesting, but was quite simple.

You had slept over his place for a whole week and he just did a relief run with the rebels. He came home and he found you on the couch sleeping with Tiger King playing in the background. He laughed as he turned off the television, squatting beside you as you slept. Taking you into his arms, he carried you into his room, placing you on the bed. He took a quick shower and joined you in bed once he was dressed. Having you in his home, waiting for him almost every night that week, he realized that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Coming home to you, being able to unwind and just spend his free time with you, that’s all he wanted. 

Have kids, late night adventures which you two did every once in a while, and just having you.

All he wanted was you.

It hit him then he loves you. And it just continued to grow from then.

“You want to go to the movies?” Angel asked you unexpectedly. 

Letty looked at you, shooting you a quick smirk before focusing back on her homework.

“Sure, what time did you want to go?”

“We can catch a late showing, I’ll buy the tickets.”

=============

You yawned, getting ready for bed. You were going to the movies with Angel, but they ended up having a late night run which you understood. Just as you were about to sleep, there was a knock on your door.

“Baby!” You heard Angel call out. 

Looking at the time, it was two in the morning. How did Angel even get in here? It was most likely Coco.

You opened your door and Angel almost fell on you, but he caught himself.

“There’s my baby girl!” He planted a kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around you. He was so warm and he smelled and tasted like alcohol.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffed him once more. “Are you high?”

“Sorry, he insisted I brought him here.” EZ’s voice surprised you especially since Angel and EZ haven’t been talking for months.

“He talked to you?” You questioned.

“Yeah, believe me, I was surprised myself.” EZ was nursing a beer at the picnic table when Angel approached him, inebriated and talking about how much he fucking loved you.

EZ hated this rift between him and Angel. He understood why his older brother was pissed, but he just wished Angel would give him a chance to speak to him, so he could speak to him about what's been plaguing his mind regarding his discovery of their mother’s killer.

He was definitely surprised when Angel plopped down next to him, patting his brother’s thigh.

“You like Y/N?”

It took some time for EZ to reply, surprised that his brother was speaking to him.

“Yeah, of course I do.” EZ looked at his brother as he leaned against the table top of the picnic table, his elbows resting on the table.

“I love her man, I’m gonna marry her.” Angel proudly informed his brother, taking another swig of his beer. 

That much EZ knew. Angel looked at you like you held the world. If you told Angel that the sky was green, Angel would believe you no questions asked. Angel was very confident in your relationship and EZ could tell. While Angel still became jealous, it was more at the fact your attention was away from him, then he became upset. And there were times when newbies who didn’t know any better or some of your customers that push Angel that made the green-eyed monster come out.

He chuckled.

“Yeah?” The lightness of the conversation made it feel like things were back to normal and EZ knew it was far from that, but he would take this.

“I do. And you’re gonna be my best man.” Angel took another drink of his beer. “I’m still angry, but you’re my brother. She would want you there.”

EZ and Angel sat in silence then before Angel asked him to drop him off at your place that you shared with Coco. A few months ago, Coco had given him a spare key so that he could come to the house in case there was an emergency. 

This wasn’t exactly an emergency, but he fucking needed to see you.

So here he was now. He was holding you from behind, nipping on your ear, his hand moving under your shirt. You pulled your shirt down, trying to get Angel’s hand away from you. 

“Thanks for the ride little brother, I gotta go fuck my girl now.” He chuckled right beside your ear making chills run up and down your spine.

“Angel!” You and EZ both yell out.

You shook your head. “Thanks for giving him a ride.”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later.” You followed EZ to the door after helping Angel to your bed. 

After locking the door, you made your way back in your room, locking your bedroom door behind you. 

Angel was already down to his boxers, laying in your bed. His eyes were closed so you figured he was asleep. As soon as the bed dipped, Angel sat up. He smirked at you, offering his hand, which you took. 

“You love me?” Angel questioned you as he sat you on his lap.

Drunk Angel was the best. He was so much needier than usual and he was so cuddly then. 

“What?” You didn’t want to tell him the L-word like this. But you weren’t going to say no either.

“You love me?” Angel nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck.

“I don’t know, you ditched me today.” You teased him, running your nails up and down his chest. 

“You love me?” Angel repeated again running his hands up and down your thighs. “You love me.” He nuzzled his face on your chest now, practically motorboating you. It wasn’t a question this time, it was a statement. “Te amo mucho, mi vida. You love me?”

The drunken slur made you giggle as he talked into your chest. 

But then his words sunk in.

“You love me?” You felt your heart swell, the butterflies in your stomach going insane.

“I fucking love you, you’re my world.” Angel sat up and pulled you down towards him, capturing your lips, sighing against your lips. “You love me? I heard you earlier. I love you.”

“I love you,” you saw how Angel’s eyes softened, kissing you once again. You didn’t think hearing those words could make your heart flutter just like how the movies described it, but fuck, this killed you. You felt your eyes welling up causing Angel to frown.

“Baby, why are you crying?” He wiped your tears as they fell. “I’m sorry you feel like I put you on the back burner or I’m tired of you, but I’m crazy about you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, Angel did the same thing. You two sat in silence, enjoying the silence and the confession you two just had. 

“You gonna let me eat that pussy?”

You laughed at his words. Pulling away, you shook your head. “Let’s sleep, once you wake up, then you can do that.”

Angel obliged. You both laid down, your head on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning with Angel’s head in between your thighs. He brought you to a high twice. You were a wet, quivering mess as Angel kissed his way up your body.

“Morning mi dulce,” he kissed you, your taste on his lips. 

You felt his erection against your thigh, he was already bare. Slipping inside you, he kissed you as he buried himself to a hilt.

This was different. This wasn’t your usual sexual encounter where Angel couldn’t wait to be inside you, fucking you to oblivion, he was usually rough. 

This was much sweeter, slow and sensual.

“I can do this every morning.” Angel said against your lips, his body moving against yours. Angel wrapped your legs around his waist, stretching you further. His pace was slow, which you were usually not a fan of, but this was something else right now. The room was still slightly dark, but you could tell it was at least near six in the morning with the little bit of the outside you saw through your blinds. 

You realized then that Angel woke you up by eating you out, wondering if he remembered his drunken confession.

Angel placed his forehead against yours, placing a kiss on your lips every once in a while as he moved in and out of you. Your back arched, scratching his shoulders, meeting his thrust with the movement of your hips.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much.” 

Your heart swelled at his repeat confession. Fuck did that feel good to hear.

“You love me corazon? Huh?” He held himself with one arm and cupped your cheek, running his thumb against your bottom lip. “You love me?” The phrase was different when compared to last night. He has a playful undertone, his intoxication with alcohol obviously making Angel speak with repetitive playfulness regarding you loving him. 

It was a more weighted question today.

“Yes, I love you.” You breathed out, eyes locked on his.

He groaned, hearing you say it while he was sober hit differently. Angel could take his alcohol and remembered most of last night's events. Even his conversation with his baby brother.

“You’re the only one for me,” you tightened up around Angel, his words just turning you on even more. You were never into possessive wording when it came to yourself prior to Angel, but just to know he loves and cherish you as much as you did him, fuck it made you wet. “You like hearing that mami? That you’re the only one for me? I’m gonna put a ring on your finger one day, you want that?”

You couldn’t even process what the hell was going on. Angel was hitting you so deep, his words just making you inch closer to your climax. You could tell he was almost there as well, he sped up his pace, but his thrusts were not as rhythmic as before. You reached down and rubbed your clit, Angel’s eyes darkening as he watched you.

“Yeah querida, play with that clit, get yourself off.” 

You both reached your climax, each other’s names rolling off your tongues. Angel collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapping around him. Running your fingers through his hair, he sighed happily.

“I don’t want you ever thinking that I’ve had enough of you. You’re my world. Shit has just been,” he paused, finding the right words to say. He hasn’t disclosed much with you, but he would soon. After all, he had no plans of letting you go. “It’s just been crazy.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You quickly respond.

“But I do, I,” he sighed. “I overheard you yesterday when you were talking to Letty.” 

“Fuck,” you slightly laughed hoping it made you less embarrassed. “Angel, I don’t want you thinking that I’m clingy or something, it’s just if you’re bored, I get it.”

“How can you even think that, I could never get bored of you.” Angel slipped out of you then, a tiny moan escaping your lips. He sat up, his knees bent, his arms resting on his knees. “I’m not used to it, being in a relationship is new for me. I’ve been in relationships before, but it hasn’t been as intense as this. I may not be handling it as well as I want, but I do fucking love you and I want all of you, all the time.”

You sat up, wrapping an arm around his middle. You kissed the back of his shoulder and leaned your head against it. 

“I’m sorry, past relationships just fucked me up.” You both chuckled at your statement, as if it was some sort of agreement. “I love you Angel, the past two years has been the happiest I’ve been. With everything I’ve been through, I’m glad it led me to you.”

Angel has never had someone love him as much as you have that at times, it was a bit daunting for him. But he was done sabotaging relationships due to his insecurities and fears. He wasn’t willing to let you go and he was certain you weren’t going to let him go either.

For once, he felt secured. 

He found his person.

And it was you.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est: Bonus

God Is Not a Woman (but He’s Plotting Anyway)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 2910

Summary: Bucky’s trying to fit into the Tower and some might be trying to make it easy for him. And then he drops the bombshell on you and things get even crazier than before.

Warnings: swearing, brief talk on religion, fluff, crack-ish humour

A/N: Admittedly, this is some kind of a strange one-shot of which I’m not sure it exactly fits, but… enjoy? 

Story masterlist

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Things weren’t all sunshine and rainbows only. Bucky’s return to the world was… tough. You only knew little of what had happened to him through the decades, but it was enough of a horror story even without the details.

Bucky’s relationship with the team of Avengers was complicated too. Steve was as ecstatic and heart-broken as when you had popped up alive and that was all that needed to be said. Clint was a rather easy-going guy with a reputation of not judging people by their worst mistakes and as a man who had once been mind-controlled by an alien (…what?), he was willing to accept Bucky with a strange kind of sympathy.

As it turned out, Bucky and Natasha had actually crossed their paths before briefly, but once again, that was all you learned, both hers and his moments in the past too dark to share. Bruce was keeping his distance, more of a shyness than fear or disgust if you could take a guess and Thor was off the planet, not meeting the other supersoldier just yet.

Tony… Tony wasn’t fond of Bucky. He found a footage of another Winter Soldier killing his parents and while it hadn’t been Bucky himself, Tony’s hatred needed an out and despite trying, he simply couldn’t manage treating Bucky exactly nice. He still let him live in the Tower though, so that definitely counted for something; for a lot, actually.

There were many people with trust issues when it came to Bucky and that included himself – he didn’t trust his mind still, even with the mysterious man helping him and he most definitely didn’t forgive himself for the lives he had taken. The ghosts of his past haunted him at night, in his dreams the most. But he was slowly healing.

Steve was helping a lot, sometimes trying too much maybe, which was why the former assassin sought Sam Wilson rather than his best friends at times. He came to you occasionally too; however, he seemed to feel as if you were off limits, because you were Steve’s gal. He was gradually losing that stupid attitude though and his teasing side came out to play, making you blush becoming his new hobby. Exactly what you needed with all the mess happening around, i.e. the aftermath of your resurrection.

It took Bucky about two months to mention the name.

It happened casually, just dropping the bombshell no one had seen coming. Bucky was actually showing Steve how to upgrade the newest version of some software you weren’t entirely sure what was for; both supersoldiers had to do their fair share of adjusting and while for Bucky it often was people, for Steve it was sometimes… technology despite him being able to pick up on things very quickly.

Steve thanked him and for the millionth time, you heard the ominous sentence: “It’s good to have you back, Buck. Whoever that guy was, I’ll always be grateful.”

“He told me to call him Chuck.”

The words were simple, really, nothing out of ordinary for untrained ears. Except it had you both you and Steve choke on your own spit.

A frown appeared on Bucky’s face, confusion with a hint of alarm before he rolled his eyes at your antics. “What? I know, it’s kinda dorky-“

Yeah, that was not it.

A chilling suspicion crept up your spine and while it was not necessarily ominous, it sure as hell felt like the ground was shaking under your feet, proving you that a sense of control over your life was nothing but a ridiculous illusion.

“Steve? How about we make a phone call?”

Five minutes later, you were video-chatting with the Winchester duo, explaining them your concerns. Bucky was with you and Steve but didn’t engage that much since he never really met either Sam or Dean, rather wary of them.

A photo of a dorky looking man indeed, with cute dark curls around his head and a full beard, appeared on the screen, replacing the video-feed.

“Did he look like this?” Sam asked, tension audible in his voice. It still had nothing to the disbelief in Bucky’s.

“Yeah, that’s him,” the supersoldier confirmed, narrowing his eyes, which didn’t quite disguised how incredulous he was. “How did you-?”

“Is it… him?” you interrupted them, strange tingling sensation in your fingertips, light nausea tickling your stomach.

Was there any coincidence in his world left? What the hell did all of this mean? Was Steve just a lucky guy, God’s favourite, or… or was there a larger scheme, one you weren’t able to see just yet?

It reminded you of the talk you had had with Sam Wilson what felt like ages ago, about people having two soulmates, you coming back from the death and about things that were beyond your understanding happening more and more often. This might actually prove your silly theory right. Not to mention the fact that the death of Tony’s parents was delivered by another Winter Soldier, conveniently at the same time Bucky had been having troubles with the mechanics of his metal arm, hence not being suitable for the task – what were the chances of that?

It seemed that every single thing happening had played an important role in something, ending up with your trio sitting right here and now and… that was not a very comfortable discovery.

“Oh yeah, that’s God,” Dean hummed casually and when the picture disappeared, revealing the brothers again, you saw him take a bite of a cheeseburger as if this was a talk about the fucking weather.

“God?” Bucky parroted dully and you bit your cheek, feeling guilty for not quite having explained to him why you wanted to talk to the Winchesters and what had been your suspicion; now proved right.

“Yeah,” Sam supplied helpfully, only to have Bucky repeat the word as if he was testing the taste of it on his tongue.

“A god.”

“The God, actually. Our Lord is one of kind,” Castiel appeared on the screen as well, offering a small wave that you reciprocated, too shocked to say hi.

“Except he has a sister, apparently,” Steve stated, checking with the hunters and they nodded in approval. “So you’re not denying it? You think… ugh, that The Chuck saved him.”

You made a face at his wording, but… yeah. The Chuck. The God named Chuck had saved both Bucky and you. It was official. But why? What the hell was your life anymore?

How cute and bold of you to call your life yours, you thought darkly.

“H’d weed’l,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full and shrugged. With effort, you translated it into ‘heard weirded’, which was… fair.

“You think God, capital G, saved me. Why the heck would he do that?” Bucky spitted out exasperatedly, clearly not happy about the revelation.

Eh. Revelation.

Steve tensed at your side at Bucky’s doubts, but said nothing.

“Why not?” Sam questioned, offering a small smile. Dean remained quiet, while Castiel tilted his head, seemingly curious.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you think you deserve to be saved?”

“Yeaaaah, let’s not go there,” you interjected when you noticed Bucky’s chest heaving and words in Russian spilling from his lips soundlessly.  Steve sighed, but apparently assessed it was better to let Bucky deal with the facts alone first. “Thanks for confirming our suspicions.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asked, sounding adorably confused and guilty.

“No, Castiel. It is just a lot to take it.” Understatement of the fucking year. “Speaking of which – I have a question.”

“Shoot,” Dean encouraged you, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion as the corners of your lips twitched.

“When you told me about the, eh, lovely things that walk this world... you didn’t mention a scarecrow.”

“…huh?”

Their confusion seemed pretty real to you, but you had to admit you were probably being too vague. So you decided to ask a direct question.

“Alright, sorry. This might sound stupid, but… there was this series of books Jarvis found online? I wouldn’t think much of it, except the characters are named Sam and Dean, they do hunt monsters and if I’m being honest, they definitely do act like you. So I just thought… you know. Stranger things happened…“

During your ramble, the friendly faces of the brothers gradually twisted into a disgusted grimace and you had your answer, much to your astonishment.

“I swear, Sam, I’m going to murder Becky. I’m going to kill her and kill her dead,” Dean sputtered and Sam just closed his eyes, his lips a thin line. “I can’t believe you almost married-“

Wait, what? That sounded even more interesting that the books! Though kinda private. Then again, the books described Winchesters’ lives in awful detail as far as you knew. And ended when Dean literally went to hell, so…

“How much of that thing you read?” Sam asked tiredly, his expression screaming annoyance.

You shrugged. “Not much. Kinda changes the experience when you have a good reason to believe it’s all true. Clint’s hooked, though,” you admitted, hoping it wasn’t showing how much you were enjoying the teasing.

On one hand, this was hilarious. On the other, well…

“Did you sell your story to the writer?” you pried, simply out of curiosity. No judgement there; they had enough shit in their lives as it was, being short on money was not helping, so why not use what they got.

“No!” Sam blurted out too eagerly, then cleared his throat. “No. But you’re going to like this. Carver Edlund is a penname. I give you one guess on what his ‘real’ name is.”

You squinted at the screen, not following why Sam made the air quotes.

“No clue...?”

“Chuck Shirley,” Dean announced, grinning, somehow managing to balance smugness and annoyance on his face.

“Huh?”

“Wait—Chuck? Why do I think this isn’t a coincidence?” Steve stepped in, which caused your head to snap at him.

Surely, he wasn’t implying that-

“Oh yeah. It’s exactly what you think,” Dean assured you, finishing his burger while you and Steve remained silent, simply at loss of words. What…? “You know, when people say God works in mysterious ways, they have no friggin’ idea,” he added resolutely, wiping his mouth, balling his napkin and throwing it direction of what you assumed was a trashcan; judging by the disappointed frown on his face and the hands thrown up by Sam, he missed.

So. God was a writer.  

God went by a penname, writing about Sam’s and Dean’s lives to make his living at some point.

It actually made sense; this whole thing, the grand scheme you were thinking about earlier, it sounded awfully like a plot of a freaking novel. No, scratch that, not a novel – an epos about Steve’s life, with features of a soap-opera. You did not enjoy being one of the characters, but apparently you had no choice.

There was literally nothing that would surprise you at this point. Seriously.

“Great. I don’t think I actually wanted to know that,” you stated, shaking off your thoughts. “Anyway. How is your week going so far?”

“Wonderfully. We ran into Rowena again,” Sam announced, obviously happy to change the topic. “Well, I called her. Dean lost his memory.”

Dean what?!

“Because of a spell!”

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t change the fact you called a lamp a light stick,” Sam mocked him, but you could see the relief in his features when he was able to do that. Because that meant Dean was okay. After all, you were talking to him and he appeared as always; with no manners, grinning, bickering with Sam and with all the knowledge of the hunting world he needed.

Your eyebrows rose anyway. A light stick?

“Dude! It’s a stick that produces light,” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air animatedly. “I was still a genius.”

That made you smile; hundred percent Dean. Yeah, he was just fine, fully recovered.

“I’m sure you were, Dean. You okay now?”

“Yeah. The Wicked Witch actually used some of that soulmate magic to heal-“ Sam started and stopped when he saw Steve’s face – something you had no courage to look at, because you had kinda… you had been vague when it came what exactly the witch had done – mainly because you had very little knowledge of it. “-never mind. I guess he can just cross out ‘amnesia’ from his bucket list.”

“Mm. Not pleasant. Been there. Done that,” you mused, your expression no doubt as bitter and wry as you felt.

“Well, so did I,” Bucky supplied darkly, his first words since the big discovery of who had been his salvation.

Duh. Salvation. You really should start thinking about your choice of words. This was not funny at all.

“Me as well,” Castiel joined the club.

“I don’t think I have…”

“Maybe you just forgot,” Dean nudged Sam, offering a lopsided grin.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Why are you insulting each other…?” Castiel demanded, confused, and you laughed when Dean rolled his eyes, waving at you in goodbye, signalling to leave them be so they could explain the angel how humans worked sometimes.

You obediently ended the call, chuckling. They would have to visit one day – you missed them, despite calling them on a regular basis.

You eyed the two supersoldiers keeping you company in the common room, wondering what to do next.

“Alright. Now that we established we all deserve to be saved,” you stated, glaring at Steve, because you were aware of him questioning his survival of ice too – rarely, but still – and at Bucky, the man who had been frozen, unfrozen and mind-controlled, took lives against his will and had his own life taken away only to be rescued and question his worth.

“I think we know what we need now. Ice-cream!” you called out, raising your arms above your head theatrically, earning a chuckle from Steve.

“You scream?” Bucky looked at you, pretending to be confused.

“She does. Why would you scream, doll?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. They were lovely pieces of work when they teamed up to troll anyone. You were happy for it though, mostly for Bucky who was still struggling to adjust to his new life.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. We all scream, okay? What I’m saying is that we all scream for some ‘I scream,’ now give me my cookie crisp or I’ll show what moves Natasha taught me.”

You were not kidding. Natasha had learned you some basics of self-defence; Steve’s request, supported by you wholeheartedly. And by Tony. And Ryan. And everyone, to be honest.

“You should leave your moves for Steve to show only, sugar.”

“Ah, screw you, Barnes!” you spitted back, rising to your feet, and stuck your tongue at him.

“Such language! And again, I really think you should hide your tongue and do that only with St-“

You grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him towards the kitchen as Bucky’s snicker sounded behind you. You never even opened the freezer, parking your backside on the counter, tugging Steve for a kiss instead. He laughed at first, but reciprocated the affection, slowly melting into it.

“Your friend’s such a little shit,” you hissed, but giggled into his shoulder. You felt… full. Happy. Right. You didn’t want to think about grand schemes anymore. You wanted to live and you had every opportunity. You were not going to waste it.

“I know,” Steve hummed, his chest shaking with hushed laughter, and he kissed the top of your head, while he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, stepping between your legs.

“You got that from him.”

“I think it was the other way around.”

You huffed and looked up again, finding Steve’s brilliant eyes twinkling with mischief. It was as adorable as stimulating; he always had this look in his eyes when he was up to no good and it often resulted in it being very good for you, usually tangled in the sheets. Or pressed against a wall. Or a table. Couch. Counter…

You wrapped your fingers around his nape and he obediently gave up to the pressure, bowing his head to meet you lips.

“Doesn’t matter. Kiss me like you mean it,” you requested lowly and you knew, just knew, that he would never deny you, definitely not that.

“As you wish…”

You barely had time to truly sink into the kiss, a sweet and passionate dance of lips, teasing teeth and tongues when an exasperated voice of a man arriving to collect his ice-cream interrupted you.

“Guys! Come on! Not in the kitchen! We eat here!”

So would Steve, flashed through your mind, but you withdrew a fraction, Steve’s mouth having frozen on yours anyway.

“Shut your piehole and let me follow your own advice!” you called out.

“I hate you,” Bucky deadpanned and you sent him an air kiss, hopping off the counter to have another sweet treat instead. After all, it was ten in the morning and you were in the kitchen. You could talk Steve into taking a ‘nap’ later.

“And that’s exactly why they compare you to the grumpy cat memes,” you threw back at Bucky, basking in the mock-insulted face the poor supersoldier made. You had introduced him to the meme after Clint had mentioned it. It was glorious. And very fitting.

“Punk, get hold of your bratty gal!”

Steve just shook his head at the childish behaviour – both yours and Bucky’s – and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. A fraction of second later, he grinned.

“I was doing just that until you interrupted,” he pointed out while he was pulling out three spoons.

Your laughter and the slap of a high-five you exchanged with Steve was probably heard in the whole Tower.

You had no care in the world.

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S.R. masterlist

B.B.masterlist

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Just a silly fluffy thing maybe, but hey… I thought I could share... to fill the time till December meaning an Andy fic :)

Thank you for reading!

Also, the last instalment will be ‘What I’d Never Say and Do (If I Was in My Right Mind)’

[shera-dnd]

A Day at a Time - Recovery

After an unreasonably long hiatus and an even more unreasonable amount of rewrites, it is finally fucking done, the final chapter of my modern au glitradora fanfic.

As usual here’s the AO3 link if you’d rather read it there and let us move on with the show

Catra woke up to Melog licking her face, bright and early like he usually did. She groaned and grumbled, still exhausted from the past couple of days, but still gave her boy plenty of pets and kisses. He had pretty much saved her life, after all.

Yesterday still felt hazy to her, like it hadn’t really happened. That had been her lowest point since she started therapy and taking meds. It was like slipping in and out of a dream all day, with barely any energy to even acknowledge how awful she felt, let alone get up and do anything about it. It took Glimmer and Adora showing up to get her to even eat.

“I must have really scared you, huh Melog?” She commented, sitting up on her bed “I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The cat splayed himself on top of Catra’s lap, begging for more pets, which Catra happily gave.

“I’m glad things got better too.” She offered him a weak smile. “Thank you for getting them. I don’t know what I would do without you”

Seemingly satisfied with the pets and now full of energy to burn, Melog tried to drag his mom out of bed so they could eat and play.

“Yeah, let’s not dwell on that...” She chuckled at herself a little, before finally getting out of bed.

Using her bathroom and looking in the mirror every morning was always a pain even when she looked her best - fuck gender dysphoria and fuck her beard for coming back all the time - but today it felt extra bad, because she looked like absolute garbage. That’s what crying in bed for several hours does to you.

She sighed, took her meds and washed her face.

Nope, still looked awful. Apparently being accepted and cared for by the people she loved wasn’t enough to cure her deep-seated self image issues. Looks like all those romance novels lied to her. Well, one step at a time.

And the next step was breakfast, so she made herself a nice meal and left some extra tuna for Melog. She had barely sat down to enjoy that meal, when she heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, Catra,” She heard Adora calling from outside. “Are you ready to work out?”

Catra put her food aside and did her best to look annoyed about this. Being interrupted this early in the morning was a pain in the ass, but it was vastly overshadowed by how excited she was that Adora really came back. They said they’d try to spend more time with her now, but she still worried that they were only saying it to make her feel better.

So today was a little harder for her to put on her grumpy act as she opened the door to greet her crush “Hey, Adora.” She grumbled “Not sure if you can tell, but it’s raining outside. How exactly do you plan on jogging like that?”

“I think we’ve had enough cardio for now.” Adora answered “It’s about time we did some weight exercises!”

“Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna hate this?” She groaned.

“Oh we are,” Adora somehow managed to shoot Catra a beaming smile as she said that. “But we’re gonna look hot as hell, so it’s gonna be all worth it!”

Catra did not understand how Adora wasn’t aware of how insanely hot she already was, but she wasn’t gonna say that outloud. Instead she decided to mess with her “Are you saying that I’m not hot as hell already?”

“I- What? No!” That seemed to be enough to short out Adora and deeply amuse Catra “I already…” She lowered her voice considerably. “I already think you’re really hot”

Catra was certainly not expecting that earnest response and it certainly had an effect on her poor heart. “H-hey I was just joking!” She awkwardly replied. “Just come on it. Let me finish my breakfast and then we can start.”

~~~

Catra didn’t know who invented planks, but she hated them with a passion. She wanted to say that she hated Adora too for putting her through that hell for what felt like an hour - it was only a minute - but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to hate her even if she tried.

After this gruelling workout routine, the only thing Catra wanted was to lay down on the yoga mat and maybe pass out for a bit. Unfortunately that request was denied by another person knocking on her door.

“I can get it if you-”

“I’m fine, thanks.'' Catra interrupted, forcing herself up. Fuck, her abs were so sore, but maybe now she would get actual abs. “Hey.” she greeted as she opened the door.

“Hey, Catra I- Oh wow.” Glimmer seemed to freeze for a second as she tried to process Catra and Adora in their workout clothes, covered in sweat.

“That bad, huh?” Catra joked, looking unbearably smug.

“Oh shut up!” Glimmer complained “I wanted to check in on you, but it looks like you’re doing just fine.”

“Oh come on, Sparkles,” Catra smirked, making way for her to enter. “At least stay for a glass of water, you look like you need it.”

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes as she walked into the apartment, stopping to give Adora a kiss on the cheek on the way in.

Catra tried not to feel bad about that, but it was harder than she’d like to admit. They had said they wanted her to be a part of their relationship and she was happy for that, but it still felt like their affection was always more directed at each other than at her.

Glimmer seemed to notice. She gave Catra a comforting smile, before walking up to her and giving her a matching kiss. Her lips were soft and Catra couldn’t help the awkward smile that formed in her face. Her expression evolved into a full on flustered blush as she noticed that Adora was not only watching, but giving them both the brightest smile she had ever seen.

“What’re you looking at!?” Catra bit back, trying to sound annoyed.

“Nothing...” She replied, with the goofiest smile she could muster.

Catra grumbled a little more, refusing to acknowledge how happy this made her. “Sparkles, your girlfriend is being weird.”

Glimmer chuckled at that “Do you want her to stop?”

No, Catra absolutely did not want her to stop. She couldn’t even begin to describe how much she yearned for their affection. What she also couldn’t do is be honest about that feeling. It took her worst relapse in a long time for her to open up to them yesterday and she certainly didn’t wanna go through that again.

She couldn’t say no, but saying yes would mean that Adora wouldn’t be a big adorable goof around her anymore. So she settled with the only other option she had left, and glared daggers at them both.

Catra couldn’t tell what led her to that conclusion, but Adora seemed to assume that giving her and Glimmer a big sweaty hug was the perfect thing to do in response to that.

“Eww eww eww!” Glimmer complained, struggling to escape her arms. Catra was already sweaty, but still strained to escape the open display of affection.

When they finally managed to break free, Glimmer pointed at the door and ordered “Shower! Now!”

Adora chuckled “Alright alright.” She leaned in to give Glimmer a kiss on the cheek, before she turned to Catra and asked “Mind if I get back here after that?”

Catra didn’t know what to say. She still had a hard time grasping that people might want to spend time with her and that she isn’t just forcing them to endure her presence, and this situation did not help her one bit. Part of her was still afraid that this would crumble to dust in front of her if she made a single mistake.

Still, if this was gonna disappear at any moment, then the least she could do was try to enjoy it while it lasted.

She leaned forward and kissed Adora’s cheek “You better.”

Adora’s goofy smile returned to her in full force as she nearly hopped and skipped her way out of the apartment. Catra couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Wow.” Glimmer started, in a joking tone “That bad?”

“Oh shut up!” She laughed and playfully shoved Glimmer. Only when she recoiled did Catra realize just how sweaty she was.

“Oh no.” Was Sparkles’ only response as Catra shot her evilest grin. She barely had a second to run before Catra came after with her arms spread wide.

“Come on, Sparkles,” Catra laughed as she ran after her. “Don’t you want some affection?”

“No!” She yelled, “No! Eww!” Unfortunately for her, the apartment was small and Catra was far more accustomed to it than she was and soon she was brought into her sweaty embrace “Ugh, I hate you.”

“Aww love you too, Sparkles!” The whole sentence escaped Catra’s mouth before she even processed what she was saying “I mean- I uh-”

Glimmer pulled her into a kiss and softly spoke “I know. I like you too.” Catra hated how easy it was to stun her with simple things like these. “Now let me go before I kick your ass.” She added, playfully.

“Alright alright.” Catra laughed as she let go of her.

“How about you follow Adora’s lead and go take a shower too?” She suggested.

“Wouldn’t it be a bit weird for me to just leave you alone in my apartment while I’m showering?”

“But you aren’t leaving me alone,” She replied, “I have Melog.” As if on cue, he climbed onto the sofa and began staring at the both of them.

Catra rolled her eyes and turned to Melog. “You make sure she behaves while I’m gone.”

He showed no signs of understanding, but her comment still fulfilled its goal of earning a little laugh from Glimmer. That was definitely a sound she could get used to hearing every day.

~~~

By the time she walked out of the shower Adora had already returned. They were both seated on her couch, with Melog doing his best to sprawl onto the both of them for maximum pets and scritches.

“I see you two have made yourselves comfortable.” She commented as she made her way into the room.

“Yeah,” Adora agreed. “Melog made sure we felt very welcome”

“I’m sure he did.” She rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the wall.

In that moment the silence that followed didn’t feel awkward, it felt strangely comfortable. It was like her life was taking a long content sigh at all that had just transpired. Of course this strange and new found peace made Catra immediately suspicious, especially when there was so much uncertainty still in the air.

“So… what now?”

“Well I was thinking I could make you guys some lunch,” Glimmer began. “And then we can maybe binge something on Netflix.”

Catra sighed. “I mean what about us?” she asks, finally admitting her worries. “What are we? What do we do now?”

That seemed to cast the room into a far more uncomfortable silence. Catra couldn’t help but worry that this was that dreaded fuck up that would undo everything.

“I have no idea,” Adora eventually answered, with a shrug. She got up - being careful with Melog as she did - and walked up to Catra “I only just figured how where things stood between me and Glimmer.”

With that Glimmer took her side, arms hooked around her midriff.

“All I know is that I really like the both of you and I wanna be with you two.” She continued, resting one hand on Glimmer’s shoulder and offering her the other. “And we can figure everything else as we go, if you want to.”

She gently took Adora’s hand, just to be yanked forward into a lung crushing hug. A yelp escaped her along with the last of her breath.

“Adora, let her breathe!”

Glimmer’s request only seemed enough for the hug to loosen just enough for her to breathe, while still being extremely tight, and warm, and comforting. It was easy for Catra to, just this once, leave her anxieties aside and lean into this silly little display of affection.

She could do this, she could just be with them and not worry about the future. Just love them and let herself be loved. She knew this wouldn’t fix every problem in her life, but now when those got too much for her to handle, she knew she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Now she had the two of them.

Melog meowed, annoyed that none of that affection was directed at him.

Okay, she had the three of them.

[sodalitefully]

Santa Slash is coming to town...

This fic is the Christmas-themed spiritual successor to my Easter Bunny AU.  Special thanks to @slashscowboyboots for supporting all my holiday nonsense! 

Four snapshots from Slash’s Christmas prep marathon through the years:

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Jingle bells.  

Fucking jingle bells.

There were FIFTEEN of them on the stupid-fucking-candy-colored costume he had to wear at this godforsaken excuse for a seasonal job.  “Earn some extra cash,” they said.  “It’s easy, you barely have to do anything,” they said.  "You'll be perfect, you already look the part!" they said.  

"They are about to find a size-ten jingle-toed bootie up their ass,” Axl said – to himself, as he rushed into the storage room turned "dressing room" and buttoned up his itchy red and green vest with one hand while sipping an Orange Julius from the food court with the other.  

“Hey, Axl! You’re barely late today, awesome!”

And then there was this weirdo.

Axl could not for the life of him explain why a shopping mall in Indiana elected to hire a skinny dude in his 20s with a dark complexion and a nose ring to portray Saint Nick himself, but whatever the reason, Axl was stuck working with this fruitcake until Christmas Day.  Sure Slash was nice enough (oh yeah, and his name was Slash, or at least that's how he introduced himself without offering any explanation or even a last name), but he was way too enthusiastic about getting paid minimum wage to let strange kids sit in his lap at a grimy old shopping mall.

Uh, not in a weird way, Slash was good with the kids, really.  But sometimes... it seemed like he was taking his role a little too seriously.  

"How come you don't have a beard?" the first customer of Axl's shift, a little girl in a Tweety bird sweater and blonde pigtails, asked suspiciously.

"That's a good question,” Slash said, scratching at his bare chin. The neck of his Motörhead Beyond the Threshold of Pain Tour T-shirt was visible over the faux fur collar of the Santa costume, and his shiny black boots clearly came from a military surplus store. “I get asked that a lot but the truth is, it just isn't a flattering look, trust me.  I tried it once, and the elves could barely look at me in the eye." To Axl’s incredulity, the girl actually accepted that answer.  "Now tell me, what would you like for Christmas this year, sweetheart?"

As usual, Axl tuned out at this point.  Fake a smile for the overprotective parents, take the painfully awkward commemorative photograph, try not to look like he would rather die than hear Slash try to gently explain that Santa will probably not be delivering a pony this year one more damn time, rinse and repeat – until about an hour later, when the unthinkable happened.

The less said about about the incident, the better.  Suffice to say, one of the darling angels tossed his Christmas cookies, and some of the resulting mess wound up soaking into the front of Axl’s elf costume.  As if he needed another reason to hate his job; this was just adding insult on top of injury (that is, the injury to Axl’s pride as a result of being forced to wear the most ridiculous-looking costume he’s ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on). 

“That’s it. I quit.”  He grabbed the elf cap off his head and slammed it on the ground, then stormed through the exit gate past the sign wishing customers a "Holly Jolly Holiday Season," the bells on his costume ringing merrily as he stomped his feet.

“Hey, wait!”

“No,” Axl growled, but he did turn around to look back at Slash, still sitting in the plastic candy-cane throne unbothered by the mess or the sniffling child now mostly placated by a peppermint candy.  "What."  

Slash offered him a bright, beguiling smile.

"What do you want for Christmas, Axl?" 

-----

Nothing said "holiday cheer" like wandering the tinsel-adorned labyrinth that was a Walmart superstore a week before Christmas, with Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" echoing through the tinny PA system and surrounded by other last-minute vultures hopelessly scavenging the picked-over aisles.  

In Izzy's defense, he actually finished all his shopping early this year, for once.  But then his two little brothers begged him to drive them around town to find the perfect gift for a girl at school that they apparently both had a crush on, and like a fool he agreed. 

He was regretting it now.  Anything would be better than subjecting himself to nearly an hour of top-40 Christmas music.  The jingle bells were jingling, the carolers were caroling, the B-list pop stars were spitting out god-awful covers of Christmas classics, and don’t even get him started on the commercials. 

He wasn't about to walk around in public with his fingers shoved in his ears (at least, he wasn't that desperate yet), but he did squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force himself to relax.  Just take deep breaths and think of The Rolling Stones... 

"Hey, uh, you doing okay?"

Izzy opened his eyes reluctantly.  In front of him was a young man wearing a concerned expression and a Santa hat, stuffed onto a massive pile of dark curls.  

"I'm fine.  Just finding out if it's possible to die from overexposure to Christmas music."

"Ahhh."  The man nodded in understanding.  "It's not, unfortunately.  I've tested it, trust me."

"Do you work here or something?" Izzy asked.  A leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't look like an employee uniform, but his hat matched the store decor and he didn't have a cart or shopping basket.  

"No, I'm actually a seasonal distributor.  Just checking in to make sure everything's in place before that last holiday rush, you know? Shit always gets crazy at the last minute."

"Tell me about it," Izzy responded, as if he knew a thing about marketing as a cynical 16-year-old.  But he had first-hand experience with last-minute crises, and as if to prove it, his brothers came running up to him at that moment.

"Jeff!  We can't find anything good, what should we do?"

"What's the problem?" the stranger in a Santa hat asked, looking genuinely concerned.  

"We don't know what present to get for a girl at school," the boys explained.

"Hmm..." He tapped at his chin.  "Why don't you just – oh wait, you're underage.  Well, how about you bake her some cookies or something?  That's what everyone does for me and I have no complaints."

Desperate to remove himself from this musical hell, Izzy jumped on the idea.  "Yeah, you could do sugar cookies!  And decorate them like horses, she likes horses right?” The boys had only mentioned that a dozen times; Izzy was starting to wonder if this girl even had any other personality traits.  

To his relief, a spark lit up in his brothers' eyes.  Cookies were a perfect idea, and suddenly they were dragging him away to look at cookie cutters and sprinkles.

Izzy turned around to shoot the helpful stranger a grateful look, but when he looked back, the man had disappeared with no trace, leaving not even a furry white pompom behind.

-----

Slash glanced out the window and grimaced – it was cold as a witch’s big bouncy tit outside, nothing but snow and ice as far as the eye could see. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and took another swig of hot Irish coffee.   Damn the North Pole, there was a reason he took his summer vacations in Malibu.

But despite the miserable work conditions, Slash was nothing if not dedicated to his job.  In front of him was a sack overflowing not with toys but with the most recent letters to Santa, straight from the North Pole's post office.  With Christmas only a few days away, his daunting task was to go through the whole mountain of letters as quickly as possibly in order to take their special requests into consideration before it was time to start loading up the sleigh.  

Well, there was no time like the present to get started.  Slash stretched his back and got comfortable in his coziest armchair (by throwing his legs over one armrest and slouching until his head rested on the other), absentmindedly tapping the end of his peppermint stick on the edge of an ashtray.  He grimaced when he brought the stick back to his lips and realized his mistake. 

With a sigh, he dropped the peppermint stick back in the ashtray already full of cigarette butts and ruined candies, and unfolded the first letter.  In barely legible green marker, the message read: 

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Steven and I'm 5 years old.  Please give me a skateboard for Christmas.  My brother has one and he won't let me borrow it to learn tricks.

Hmmm.  Five years old was a little young for a skateboard.  Knowing Steven, he'd probably knock his teeth out by New Year's...

...Slash shrugged.  Why not?  All things considered, he would have killed for a skateboard when he was five, so who was he to say no?

-----

Duff was seven years old when his older brothers cornered him in the backyard and gleefully informed him that Santa Claus was a fraud.  It was all a lie made up by parents to convince their children to behave during the year, they explained, and the toys were made on factory lines not by magical elves.  Their mother gave them a hell of a scolding afterwards but it was too late, the deed could not be undone. 

He tried to play it cool, but the truth was, Duff was very distraught as Christmas Eve inched closer.  Could his siblings be right?  He didn't want to believe it, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd suspected as much for some time.  He braced himself to accept the hard truth come Christmas Eve – but only if he was presented with definitive proof.

When the fateful night finally came, Duff and two of his brothers laid out their sleeping bags behind the couch, where they'd be hidden from view if anyone tried to approach the Christmas tree.  They all swore not to fall asleep, not even for a second until Christmas morning... And it wasn't until his brother started snoring that Duff realized he was the only one still awake and silently anticipating the moment of truth.  

It was imperative, of course, that he stayed hidden and didn't make a sound, or else risk giving their plot away.  But... it was past midnight, dinner was hours ago and Duff's empty stomach was starting to distract him from the task at hand.  He couldn't stop thinking about all the food he would get to eat with his family on Christmas Day: the glazed ham, mashed potatoes, apple pie and Christmas cookies... 

In the dim light, Duff could just barely make out the plate of cookies for Santa, waiting in front of the tree.  The cookies were still there untouched, all six of them... Surely no one would notice if Duff ate just one?  

He tiptoed over his sleeping siblings, as silent as the snow falling outside, making his way around the sofa to the plate on the coffee table.  But just as he reached out to pluck a gingerbread man from the assortment, he saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye.  There, beside the Christmas tree in the flickering glow of multicolored string lights, was a mysterious figure in a fur-lined coat and a red cap.

Duff stared at the intruder, slack-jawed.  The cookie clattered back onto the dish, and at the noise the stranger whirled around to face him. 

"Duff!  What are you doing still awake?" he demanded.  Duff took a breath to answer – or more likely to ask how the man knew his name – but before he could, the man peered over the couch, narrowed his eyes and frowned.  "Oh I see what this is. You thought you would catch your parents pretending to be me!" he accused.  "Well, here's the real truth: adults are always wrong and you should never do what they say!" 

The man – could he really be Santa Claus? – he planted his leather-gloved hands on his hips as he scolded Duff.  "And don't even get me started on teenagers..." he griped, casting a stare over Duff's shoulder where his older brother's leg was sticking out from behind the couch, tangled in a blanket.  

Tears started to well up in Duff's eyes.

"Please still give them Christmas presents!  I know they said they don't believe in you, but they've been good, I promise!" he begged.  Santa's expression softened.

"Aw, I know, kid.  I promise they'll still get their presents, alright?  Let me just finish up here and then maybe you can help me out with those cookies, sound good?"

Placated, Duff sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He hopped onto the sofa, swinging his feet and watching with awe as Santa pulled beautifully wrapped gifts out of seemingly nowhere and stacked them around the tree, one after another until all eight of the McKagan children were represented. He took a step back to take in his handiwork, made a few minor adjustments, then turned back to Duff: “Voila! That’s the magic of Christmas. Now pass me that plate, would you?”

Santa sat down next to Duff and propped his boots up on the coffee table. When Duff held out the plate of cookies, he selected one decorated to look like Santa Claus, white beard and all, and promptly bit its head off. 

“I love my job, but delivering presents is exhausting,” he sighed, accepting a glass of milk from Duff’s outstretched hand. “I’ve already covered Asia, Africa, Europe, and most of the Americas, so I’d say I’m due for a break.  Cheers, Duff.” He held up his glass and Duff tapped it with his half-eaten cookie. 

“To a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

[athenawrites-stuff]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 4

Pairings: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Violence, Fighting, Use of curse words, and shouting.

Word count: 1.8k + words

*

Sensing another one behind me, I went low and struck his leg with mine, using his fall to punch his chin with my right fist this time, being careful to use a controlled amount of force or else the nerve I hit will result to permanent brain injury and can be fatal.

I got up, swift in my actions as I saw the guy with a raised baseball bat heading towards me from my left flank, and the other one from the right, fast.

On reflex, I leaned back, the bat that was aimed at me hitting his comrade on the shoulder instead. Guy’s lucky, actually. He would have suffered internal bleeding if it bashed the side of his skull.

Four down, two to go.

I took my stance once again to ready myself. This dude was a foot taller than me, with muscles packed with raw strength, but even so, pale in comparison to Tai'chi’s p—

Stop thinking that! Focus!

“Smash her head Dan!” The man behind him yelled.

This ‘Dan’ went straight to me with his bat raised with intent once more.

Breathe in.

Everything slowed down. I let my heart rate decelerate, my hearing sharpened, my sense of smell heightening even further.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over. Years of practice, days of pain from training, each motion engraved to my entire body with purpose. To defend not only myself, but also those who are looked down upon, discriminated and stepped on like dirt. My parents had always taught me to defend myself. Me. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are good people, albeit wary of the other races in our community. But the moment I left the roof of my home, I knew it was time for me to defend someone other than myself. I don’t give a damn about where we come from or what kind of blood flows within our veins. I will protect those who need protecting, and set anyone straight and down to the ground when they deserve it.

Breathe out.

At the last few moments, with my eyes still shut, I changed my form. I followed his aura and pictured out the shape that was drawing up to land a serious blow to my head. Dan is solid and heavy, but everyone has at least one weakness. And this guy is not spared from that.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I opened my right fist, right foot forward and relaxed my arms, my legs serving as a firm foundation for my upper body. With the bat inches away from me, I smoothly dodged to the side, using my palm to push away the hand holding the weapon and punched a vital pressure point right under his bicep.

I bent my legs even lower and struck the center of his ribs with my thumb, closing my hands as I jabbed his sciatic nerve on each side at the same time, both located in the middle line of the thigh between the groin and the knee. A solid blow to those nerve points will cause intense pain and shock to the person, along with a temporary immobility of the feet.

a/n: Self defense 101! Remember that dear readers♥

With the support of my left leg, I went behind the man, standing straight and proud. Calm, I opened my eyes when I heard his fall, staring right into the fearful ones of the moron that started all of this.

“Y-You- You killed them!”

Is he that dumb?

“Correction, I didn’t. I knocked them unconscious is all. And the fellow that attacked me first? Well, he passed out from the pain of his now funny-looking arm.” I stated flatly as I trudged to where he was standing.

“S-Stay away from me! Monster! Freak!” He stumbled, his ass on the ground and away from me until he felt a tree trunk on his back.

I scoffed and withdrew my knuckle dusters back under my baggy sleeve.

“You wanna know who the real monster is?” I stopped and held him in place with my scrutinizing gaze. He was trembling like a wimp at this point.

“It’s you.

"You and your disgusting racist friends.

"You, along with all the people who view and treats anyone other than humankind as lowlifes and pests that are meant to be squished and eradicated from the society.

"No, it’s you, and the ones who have the same mentality as you, who are monsters under the guise of a human.”

I paused, not even blinking as I bore holes into his skull.

“I am human, down to every inch of my being. But unlike you, I respect and treat everyone, regardless of kind or gender, and to those who deserve it, fair and right.”

Before I could continue, I scented new people coming into the scene. It was the teaching staff, along with the uni’s guard.

Shocked of what they have seen, they turned towards me, angry, surprised, confused expressions on different faces.

“What have you done?!” A female, human instructor, looking to be around her late 20s shouted.

“Ma'am, if you would just let me explain—”

“You are hereby expelled from this institution, young lady!”

All the color of my skin left me as I heard the words I have dreaded even before I set foot in the campus grounds.

“Now let’s not go straight to conclusions. We need to deal with this professionally AND properly Miss Holson. You are also not in authority to suspend this student.” A heavily bearded dwarven professor, clad in a brown suit and Oxfords, told her off firmly.

“What are you saying Mr. Dulrik? Look at her! Look at this! She murdered students and oh my God, is that the dean’s son?!”

For the love of— she blind? Why does everybody think I killed someone???

“Ma'am they are—” I was about to tell her but got cut off, again!

“Helpmehelpmehelpme!” He scrambled away from me and ran to the group of teachers and hugged the young instructor. “I don’t know what came over her! She just attacked us out of nowhere!”

The audacity of this fucking bitch!

“Pardon me? Attacked you? YOU were the one who followed me out here! You and your” —I gestured to the bodies laying flat on the ground— “ buddies over there!”

“She is lying! The orc was with her and and and—”

It dawned on me that I almost forgot about Tai'chi. My eyes widened, and I frantically scanned the area around for him. And there he was, standing by the oak tree, right where I told him not to move.

He seemed…irritated?

Oh no. At me?

“I have not moved an inch from where I am standing ever since I planted my feet here.” He said with his deep baritone voice, turning to confront the staff. “What she’s speaking is the truth. They were the ones who followed her here and attacked her, first.”

“And how can we be sure you are telling the truth, orc?” Miss Holson replied spitefully.

Even the teacher, huh? Her odor smells like vomit. I mean, I knew she was…foul, but I thought it was because of the situation. Guess not.

Tai'chi did not respond. Instead, he moved to look at me in the eyes. His gaze, searching, but not in an awful way. Was he asking me what I’ll do?

“How about we discuss this in the office, shall we?” An elderly professor spoke. She was wearing the university’s formal teaching uniform together with black, flat, closed toe sandals. “And Miss Holson, please quiet down. As Mr. Dulrik said, we should not jump into baseless conclusions.”

Miss Holson fumed and shut her mouth, holding the coward in her arms.

“Now then, Miss…?”

“Blackbell.”

The woman paused. I caught a smell of surprise and… astonishment?

She cleared her throat “Well, then Miss Blackbell, please follow us to the Dean’s office, along with your, companion.”

Weird.

“Oh and Mr. Smith, kindly call for assistance and take the unconscious students to the infirmary to be treated and looked unto. Thank you.” She told the guard. With that, she and the rest of the faculty started walking back.

I glanced at Tai'chi once more to find him, again, staring. I approached him warily, expecting him to be mad at me.

“Uh. Hi?”

I let out a long exhale when he replied, with a slight tug of his lips, his tusk jutting out. “Hi.”

I fidgeted, trying to come up with words to explain myself.

“I uh, uhm. Are you mad?”

With his brow raised, “Why would I be?”

Yeah why would he be?

“I-I never told why I keep wearing my mask.” I stuttered, “You see I—”

“You two! Start moving before I force you to.” A teacher yelled at us from a distance.

“We’ll talk later, Pearl. For now let’s get this resolved first. I know for a fact that they won’t expel you unless they ignore the ill intentions of the ones who attempted to harm you first. But better be safe than sorry, he was the dean’s son afterall.”

“Yeah… Thanks. We should.. go.” I turned and started walking along his side.

******pov shift for a bit*******

Little did Pearl know, he was thinking about how…nice, yeah that’s the word, definitely not sexy, you were when he witnessed your skills in combat. It awakened something in him that it took a lot of control not to get aroused there and then, which was the real reason why he stood there, unmoving from his place. Not once did he leave his eyes from you, almost jumping to help you when the guy with the baseball bat was closer than we would have liked. But oh no, he was not surprised, he was astonished and shookt , amazed when you pulled that last technique, sending the human plummeting to the ground almost soundlessly. And the way you stood right after, he knew he was smitten. That proud and intense aura you gave off was enough to make him bow down at your feet. He could feel it. He could smell it. That was his secret, he can scent people and catch any mood shift they make. Even though he told her that her eyes and brows gave it away, it was not entirely true as he could smell, literally, you and the changes on your scent.

Oh but little did he know you could to. Just not as observant as he is.

*************************************

Thank you for reading<3

I've already written Chapters 1-6 so stay tuned and check them out in my pinned post. Stay safe and healthy!

[lu-undy]

Chapter 101 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mon Dieu…"

"Yeah…"

Both were laying in bed like starfish on a beach, panting and catching their breaths. 

"You… Surpassed yourself… mon amour…"

"Did you-?"

"Oui…" Lucien put a hand on his chest to catch his breath. 

"You did…?"

"Oui…!" Lucien insisted. 

"You sure?" 

"Mundy…!"

"But I didn't touch you, I just-?" Mundy put his forearm on his sweaty brow. 

"I know…" Lucien closed his eyes. "I… know… I just… you were hitting the right spot, if you need… details…"

"I was…? I had no idea… God…" 

"Were my cries… moans… and whimpers… not enough?"

"You're usually… quite vocal…" Mundy answered.

"It is the first time… that this happens…" 

Mundy had grabbed his bottle of water from the night table and offered it to Lucien. They both pushed themselves to sit and took turns drinking. 

"Merci, mon amour."

[Thank you, my love.]

"Yeah, you’re welcome, Lu'."

They sank down in the sheets and naturally, Lucien laid his head on Mundy's shoulder. The Aussie wrapped an arm around him. 

"But really, you… did the thing without you or me touchin' you?" 

"Technically, you were touching me, just not with your hands and not where you are thinking." They exchanged a smile. 

"Guess so, yeah…" Mundy's hand stroked his lover. "Uh, did you feel it as strongly as when I do it… properly?"

"Even more so. The fact that you or I were not touching me made it stronger, more intense."

"Oh, ok."

"Don't worry, I shall reciprocate next time." 

They exchanged a smile.

"Can't wait. Speakin' of waiting, I hope I didn't make you wait too long at the restaurant."

"Long enough to be approached by another man."

"Seriously?!" 

"Is this jealousy I sense?" Lucien smiled. 

"What the hell does he think he's doin'? Did he annoy you? Why didn't you tell me while we were there, I'd have had a word or two with him…" Mundy tightened the hug, protectively.

"It is fine, I let him have his way and when he was deep enough in his own grave, I ended him."

"What? What's that mean?" 

"I flirted back with him until…"

"Until?"

"Until I resumed my normal voice. You should have seen his face, he was livid." 

"Pfff…" 

They both shared a laugh. 

"Still, next time, you tell me, alright?" 

"And what would you have done?" 

"Don't know… I'd have told him the truth, that you're mine, and no one comes near you." 

"Possessive?"

"Protective, and maybe a bit possessive…"

"Territorial, I like that in you, mon loup."

Lucien snuggled against his lover who combed his long hair with his fingers.

"May I ask, do you prefer me shaved?" 

"I don't mind. I like both. And it's not like you're super hairy otherwise."

"Yet I felt it, you made love to me differently tonight." 

"Hm… Yeah, felt different… Still does, I mean, look at you! Lost a few years without the beard and all, and those stockings… Gosh…!"

"Are you calling me old?" Lucien teased. 

"Nah… Vintage." Mundy tried to save himself.

"Vintage means old for clothes, Mundy…" 

"Yeah well… I'm not makin' it better, aren't I?" 

"Non." Lucien chimed with a smile. 

"And now you're gonna bully me ‘cause I said you're old, right?"

"Exactement."

[Exactly.]

"Well, fuck me then…" 

"I'd rather you did it to me, but not just now." 

"I didn't mean it literally!"

"Didn't you?" Lucien teased. 

"Pfff…" He laughed and kissed his lover's brow while holding him tight. "Love you, doll." 

"I like this new nickname." 

"What?" 

"Doll." Lucien answered, looking up at his lover. 

"It's usually a sheila's pet name."

"I don't mind, I like the sound and the connotations of it." 

"Really? Like bein' a doll, eh?" Mundy cupped Lucien's cheek.

"I like being yours, without a doubt." 

"Y'know what?"

"Pray tell." 

"The more I know you, the more I'm surprised how much you like bein' uh… like… not dominant."

"Oh?" 

"When I met you, you were so arrogant, so self-confident, so… argh! I'd never have imagined you could be that soft and all."

"Is that an issue?" 

"No, not at all, on the contrary. I love when you're bein' like that. Shows you trust me an awful lot." 

"I do." Lucien confirmed and as his head rose and fell to the rhythm of Mundy's breath, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier. 

"Lu'...?" 

"Mh?" 

"Thanks for tonight, everythin' was perfect, just like you." Lucien smiled with his eyes closed. Mundy looked down at the both of them. "You not gonna remove your stockings?"

"I am way too tired."

"And sore, eh?" 

"Non, actually…"

"Oh? Thought it'd be hurtin'."

"You went slowly enough and you had prepared me plenty, mon amour." 

"Well, gotta do that again then, and maybe we can go for round two next time…?" 

"Gladly." 

"You'd let me… do it twice?" 

"Mh-hm." 

"Should've met you when I was in my twenties…" Mundy said. 

"Mh?"

"Because I was unstoppable back then."

Lucien's eyes snapped open. 

"Are you saying that…?" He asked. 

"Yup. Literally had a bit of a reputation for it." 

"Quoi?" Lucien asked, surprised and Mundy chuckled with his low, gravelly laughter. 

"Used to be like that. It passed when I got older." 

"I should have met you when you were in your twenties then…"

"What?" Mundy asked and Lucien closed his eyes on his shoulder again. 

"I was the same…" 

"Seriously?"

"There are rumours, or rather legends about me."

"What do they say?" 

"That I have as many children as the number of women who laid eyes on me." 

"What?!" 

"Other less uhm… naturally gifted spies spread those words around. And instead of harming me, they made my fame and reputation." 

"Pfff…" Mundy chuckled. "I'm laughin' both for the story and for your voice."

"What about it?" 

"You sound sleepy as hell." 

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to shave everywhere and prepare myself? It was exhausting…" 

"Aw, poor you… C'mere, doll, gimme a good night kissy, eh?" 

Lucien raised his head with his eyes still closed and pushed his lips on Mundy's. 

"There, g'night, gorgeous." 

"Bonne nuit, mon loup." 

Mundy adjusted the cover on them both and closed his eyes. 

-- A few days later --

"That's very sweet of you, Mum, thanks." 

"Bah, anythin' to help you, Micky!"

They were both in the living-room, sitting side by side on the sofa. Perle was lying on Caroline's lap and Soot, on Mundy's. 

"Will he be much longer?" She asked. 

"Uh…" Mundy looked at his watch. "A couple of hours more."

"Ah, alright." 

"And you, Mum, how's it goin' with Dad? Is he alright?" 

Caroline's smile faded slowly as she put her cup of tea back on the coffee table. 

"He… We aren't in the best of terms at the moment." 

"What's happenin'?"

She sighed. 

"It's your father… When you told him about Lucien and you, he was quite upset. He stayed angry for a few days. Then he went to see Maurice. When he came back, he was just… empty."

"Empty?"

"Yeah, always looking at nothing, doesn't talk much. Sometimes I catch him just sitting on the couch and just… doing nothing. He's not watching the television or listening to the radio. He's just sitting there by himself, staring at nothing, thinking about God knows what…"

"Did you try and talk to him?" Mundy asked. 

"Yeah, asked him if he was alright. He always says he's fine and carries on."

"When did he go and see Maurice?"

"More than a week ago now."

"Crikey... And does he say anything when you come and visit here?" 

"Nope. Nothin'. Not even a 'hey' or a 'hello' when I come back. It's like he's living alone."

"Gosh… I-I'm sorry, Mum."

"What for?"

"It's all my fault and it falls on you again, although…" Caroline was about to answer when she got surprised by Mundy's sentence not ending there. "Even if I'm very sorry that it happens to you cause you got nothing to do with this, I… I'm not gonna change anythin'."

"What d'you mean?"

"I guess Dad expects me to go back and apologise and-"

"No, of course not."

"What?"

"You say that as if you did in the past, but it's not true, Micky. Remember when you used to go with the van, huntin' for days on end? Even if he yelled at you, you never stopped." 

"Doesn't mean I felt happy about how I got along with Dad because of it." 

"I know. But I don't think he is expectin' you to come back and apologise. Apologise for what? You're bein' a good boy…" She cupped his cheek and smiled, to which he grinned back. "And look at your smile… Y'know, I told your Dad about this."

"About what?"

"I never saw you smile half as much as I see you do now, since you're with Lucien." 

"Oh, really?" 

"Yeah! And the way you look at him all makes sense now."

"Mum…!" Mundy felt embarrassed, he lowered his head and hunched his back. 

"Nothin' to be ashamed of, I find you cute…!" Mundy blushed. "I know we never talked about boys or girls, but if you ever need to, I'm here for you." She patted his back. 

"Yeah… Thanks, Mum."

"How's it going for you and your Lu', eh? Guess it's going strong from that blush on your face…?"

"I-I don't know if I can say… It's uh… "

"Come on…!" She pushed.

"Hold on, before I answer you, is there anythin' I can do to help you, Mum?"

"With what?"

"With Dad."

Caroline sighed. 

"Nah, you did all you had to do. It's shakin' the old man but he gotta take it, eh."

"Thanks, Mum." He leaned to her and she wrapped an arm around him. 

"It's normal, Micky. It took me a bit of time to get used to myself, but hey, I did it. But tell me now, what's up with your Lu', eh?" 

"Mum, he's… fantastic. He's just… He's better than blokes in movies and all… He's the best thing to have ever happened in my life." Mundy sighed, lovestruck.

"Aww, Micky…" Caroline looked at her son, leaning his head on her shoulder, and smiled. "Never seen you like that, baby." 

"Cause I never felt like that…!"

"What did he do?" 

"He took me out, in the Maravilhoso, y'know, the Brazilian place in town."

"Oh, yeah, the one with the yellow flashy lights, yeah?"

"Yeah, that one." 

"So you got some dinner there?"

"We went separately and uh… Gosh, when I saw him, I… I fell in love with him all over again… I don't even know if that makes sense but I was feelin' like at the beginnin', y'know? Knees went to jelly, mouth was dry and weird. Couldn't speak properly."

"It does make a lot of sense, Micky. I felt that twice in my life."

"Oh, when?" 

"First, when your father accepted to take you in with me and raise you. The second time was when we changed our name, after the fire. I guess Maurice told you our new name, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't actually. Said I should ask you, back when I asked him."

Caroline smiled. 

"We sat with your father and took a long time to think. Maurice said to take something completely different from Turner, but also, something we'd recognise instantly. It'd be odd if someone called us by our names but none of us reacted, eh?"

"What did you go for in the end?" Mundy asked. 

Caroline grinned sweetly and raised her hazel eyes to her son.

"Mundee." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Really? Mundy?"

"Yeah, but spelt with double 'e' in the end, instead of 'y'." 

Mundy hugged his mother. 

"Guess you came up with the name, eh?" He asked.

"I think I did, I can't remember exactly now. But I remember that we both agreed without thinking. Anytime someone says 'Mr Mundee' or 'Mrs Mundee', I think of you and say a little prayer for you in my heart, baby." She hugged him back.

"Thank you so much…"

"Been missing you and your adorable smile, Micky. But I'm so happy now that you've found some peace." 

"Yeah, well… Doesn't seem fair. I get peace but Dad doesn't… By the way, why did he go and see Maurice? Was it just about Lu' and me?" 

"Nah, I'm pushin' him to change our name back to Turner. Feels weird not to have the same last name as you. Besides, that bad man's dead. Time for us to become Turners again. Also, we told the rest of the family that we uh… We actually were alive. We wanted to let them know and then maybe see them. It's a bit of a drive to go there, but it'd be nice to do it, at least for next Christmas, like we used to."

"How are they?" 

"They thought it was a bad prank and called the police on us…"

"You serious?" Mundy exclaimed.

"Yeah, and I understand. Imagine if I had called you to tell you the truth. You'd have picked up the phone and heard someone with your Dad's voice tellin' you we were alive. You'd have wondered who the hell is playin' a bad prank on you." She paused to catch her breath. "So I told your father to not call again, it was a bad idea to say such stuff not in person. But he insisted and called them again; got angry at them for not believin' him even. Next thing we knew, the police were knocking on the door. We explained everythin' and of course they didn't believe us. Took them days to come back to us and understand."

"Gosh… I'm sorry you had to go through all that mess. Your nerves are alright?" Mundy looked at his mother with worried eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess it's their nerves that took a slap, eh? Thank you, sweetie, for worryin', but I'm fine. Since you came back and that awful man's dead, I feel much stronger."

"Good to hear. Although, I'd prefer it if Dad was feelin' alright too…" Mundy lowered his head.

"Hey, baby…" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Not your fault, nothin' you can do about it. Let the old man think. He loves you, in his own way. He needs to find his new place."

"His new place?" 

"It's like the news you told him took him outside of himself. He needs time to find a new balance, a new place in his own head to accept all this. It's takin' him a long time, but your old man hates to change his habits; always been like that." 

"D'you think he will one day?" 

Their eyes met. 

"I hope so. It's sad enough to see him wanderin' in his own head, his eyes tired and empty."

"I'm sorry, Mum." 

"Don't be. He was there for me when I was low and now, I am here for him when he is. That's the vows we took, all those years ago." She smiled at her son. "It's easy to love when everything's fine. You truly love someone when nothing's fine but you stick to them nonetheless." 

He grinned back. 

"I think you're right, Mum." 

"Of course I am!" 

They chuckled and the cats slipped out of their laps. They trotted to the door and meowed repeatedly. 

"Ah, that'd be Lu'."

A split second after, the sound of a key on a lock and soon, the door opened. 

"Meow! Meow! Meow!" 

"Bonjour, mes bébés…! Attendez, je veux rentrer, attendez…!" 

[Hello, my babies…! Wait, I need to come inside, hold on…!]

Lucien shut the door after him and knelt down for the cats to drown him in headbutts, slow blinks and purrs. He let them have their way with him and dealt kisses and scratches, left and right.

"Mundy? Mon amour? I am home!" He announced from the entrance and Mundy blushed at the pet name being used in front of his mother.

"Yeah, come in, Lu', Mum's here…!" 

Lucien removed his shoes and jacket before joining mother and son. 

"Bonjour, Caroline, my apologies, I did not know you were here." He extended a hand to her but she pulled him into a hug, which the Frenchman reciprocated. 

"Hey, Lu'..." 

"Mundy…" 

They played it safe with a hug and some hand holding, out of respect for Mundy's mother. 

"You sit here, Lu'," Caroline said. "I'll go and get you a cup to get some tea with us."

"Please, Caroline, I can go and-"

"Mum, I can-"

"Sit! The both of you be good boys now and listen, yeah? I'll go and get you a cup. You're home from work, you're tired. You have a minute or so, I'll be back." Caroline's assertive, motherly voice shut both the men up and she did what she just said. 

"Mon amour, ça va? How have you been?" Lucien whispered. 

[My love, how are you?]

"Yeah, alright. Mum's visited me like that, we didn't really organise anythin'. That's why I didn't tell you anythin', sorry, luv'." 

"Please…" Lucien put a hand on his cheek. "There is no harm done. I like your mother, she is lovely." 

"Thanks, luv'." 

"How is she?"

"She told me that -"

"Here we are, boys…! A nice cup for you, Lu'. Ya don't mind if I call you, Lu', do you?"

"Not at all, I am honoured." He answered with a smile and gently bowed as he accepted the cup of tea that Caroline was handing him. 

"Aw, such a good boy…" 

"I was just asking Mundy how you were." Lucien said as he took a sip. 

"Not too bad, yeah." 

"Caroline, if I may…" 

"Yeah?"

Lucien put the cup down on the coffee table. 

"Your beautiful eyes don't shine as I know them to shine."

"Ooh, flatterer!" Caroline blushed. 

"What is on your mind? Is it something that we can help with?" Lucien offered. 

"Not really… It's Mike, he's a bit stuck on that last chat you guys had."

"I am sorry to see that it affects not only him, but also your sleep." 

Her eyebrows jumped and she looked at Mundy with question marks in her eyes. 

"Ex-spy, Mum, he can read stuff like that on your face like it's written in French…!" Mundy answered.

"Well, that's a surprise…" Caroline said. "But yeah, Mike's low mood is gettin' to me a bit. Nothing you lovely boys can do, though. It'll pass, I don't imagine him bein' stuck like that forever."

"If we can do anything, please let us know." Lucien put his hand on hers, on her lap, and Perle jumped on the sofa to brush herself on her grandmother.

"Meow…" 

"Thank you, all of you but it's fine, I promise. It's just makin' him wonder about a lot of things. We gotta give him some time, is all." She concluded. "But what about you boys?" 

"As you wish." Lucien answered. "Mundy must have told you, not much has happened since the last time you graced us with your presence."

"Oh, no, on the contrary!" She answered and both Lucien and Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "Micky told me he fell in love with you again!"

"Mum!" Mundy blushed to his ears and Lucien smiled.

"Yeah, you did…!" Caroline carried Perle like a baby in her arms and went to the coat hanger. She freed the lady cat who nonetheless stuck to her and meowed repeatedly. "Now, I'd better go back to my old Mike. Don't like to leave him alone too long."

"But of course." Lucien and Mundy went to the entrance. Lucien gave Mundy his mother's jacket and gestured to him to help her wear it. 

"Oh, yeah, here Mum…" 

"Good boy… Now, you two behave, yeah?"

"Meow! Meow! Meow!" 

"You too, babies…" She bent down to scratch Perle and Soot who were rubbing themselves on her. 

"See ya, Mum, and you be careful out there, yeah?" 

"Yeah, and see ya, boys." She hugged them one by one and left. 

"Your mother is absolutely charming." 

"Oi, watch it… She's my mum, eh?" 

"Don't worry, it's the son who stole my heart." Lucien smiled and came closer to his lover, splaying his hands on his chest.

"Glad to know…" Mundy hugged his lover and his hands slid down on his back until they slid in his back pockets.

"I see someone has been missing me."

"Course, I have. Y'know, I was - oh?" 

Both froze for a second when they heard a screeching meow from upstairs. They let go of each other and towards where the sound had come from. Mundy arrived first and opened the door to the cat room.

“Oh, bugger…” He shut the door straight.

“What is it?!” Lucien wanted to push Mundy aside.

“N-no, not now, Lu’...!” Mundy blocked the door and the cat screeching resounded again.

“That was Perle crying! What is wrong with her?! Let me help her!”

“Lu’! No! There’s nothing wrong with her, she… Soot and her need a minute…”

“Why?! What is happening there?!”

“They…” Mundy took Lucien’s head between his palms and put his lips next to his ears. “We might be grandpas again…”

“Oh…”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

*sings* the family REUNION

A/N: A nice Klaus x Topazi. I’m projecting, and this is also comfort for me right now xx. I’m sick of this country, I want to get the fuck out, but I can’t, so this is what’s happened. I’ve thought about writing this one before, but I think what we all need right now is some tenderness and warmth, so what better way to do it than through fanfiction. This is the first time I’ve written for an OC, and I like it so far. This was initially for a black reader, then I thought, literally today “oh topazi” so here we are.

Warnings: food (and lots of it), mild drink, knowing myself small mentions of racism, mention of sex

Cheeky Tag List: @misskittysmagicportal, @super-unpredictable98, @badsext, @sean-falco, @the-freckled-luba, @iamsexytrash, @crabstick, @robertsheehanownsmyass, @frogs--are--bitches, @seancekitsch

“KLAUS, COME ON, I CAN’T BE LATE” Topazi yelled through the house, checking herself in the mirror one last time before springing to where Klaus was.

 He was sitting on the kitchen island, nibbling on some chips. His feet tapped against the counter every other second.

“I told you, don’t eat yet, you won’t want to eat before we get there and that’s forbidden fruit sir.” she sternly stated, fauxly crossing her arms at him.

“Fine, by the way, your pasta salad is amazing.” he said, making a small chef’s kiss motion with his hands.

  Topazi facepalmed as Klaus kissed her cheek, and he walked to the door and put his sandles on. Jesus sandles, actually. To spent hours making two tins of pasta salad, and he ate almost a full corner of it. He must’ve eaten some of it while she was in the bathroom, or when she was lightly scolding the cats for disturbing the resident mice. She rolled her eyes and packed into the car, but not before saying goodbye to the houseplants.

“How long is the drive supposed to be?” Klaus asked, long limbs extending in the car.

“Just about an hour. It won’t be long, trust me. You’ll wish the drive was even shorter when you get there too.” she said, smiling and Klaus grinned back at her, and he kissed her once more before shuffling over more to his side of the car.

  About 45 minutes of time passed, and during that time, Klaus had opened a plethora of tangents, including pegging, ketchup being a smoothie (to him), why he doesn’t personally trust roaches(they just look weird, and they live forever), as well as why it took so long for him to cut that god-awful beard. All the while T was swerving in lanes, and glancing every now and then at the clock in the car. Klaus sat guzzling water while talking, and she knew the question was going to come up at some point, so she slapped her big girl panties on and took it.

“Are we there yet?” Klaus asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His stomach was poking out, but just barely, and Topazi sighed heavily.

“Klaus, come on. We’ve got a little less than 20 minutes left, it’s not my fault you drank all that water.”  she said, half stern, half jokingly.

“But I have to gooo. Can’t you pull over or something?” he whines, puppy dog eyes showing.

‘We’re on a highway, Klaus.” she muttered, gritting her teeth before pulling into a lane. That caused him to cross his legs, and close his eyes, groaning.

“Please, I really have to go. I’ll try to repay the favor when I can, I promise.” he begs, hands covering his crotch. T thought about it for a moment, and she’d been meaning to have Klaus eat her out again, so why not. She reached in the back and pulled out an empty bottle, and he picked it from her hands.

“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” he says, turning away from her and she gagged lightly, but at least he didn’t wet his pants....this time.

Topazi continued to drive for the promised 20 minutes, and she arrived at her parent’s house, cars already piling onto the lawn. Klaus quickly headed to the trash can outside, and threw the bottle away, getting sanitizer from the car. She grabbed a tin of the pasta salad, as well as Klaus, and he followed her to the front of the house.

“Are they even going to like me?” Klaus mumbled, eyebrows scrunching. They’d  had discussions about it before, and his worry was extremely valid. She didn’t want Klaus to feel left out, or bad about anything. He was still a really good lover. He’d voiced his concerns multiple times, and time and time again, she reassured him.

“You’ll be fine. If they say one thing you’re uncomfortable with, I won’t hesitate to leave this place and drive all the way back. You know that.” T replied, using a hand to softly rub his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and the door opened, right as she was reaching for the doorbell for a second ring.

“Hi! Come on it! And you bought a guest, who is this?” Alena asked, ushering her daughter and guest into the house.

“Mom, this is my partner Klaus. Also, pasta salad, which is getting warm as we speak, so let me set it down.” Topazi rushed into the kitchen, shuffling quickly into the house, Klaus bumbling after her, looking around. She opened the fridge and shoved her dish in, gently patting it before stretching mildly, an aftereffect of staying in one spot.

  T walked back over to Klaus and he smiled at her mom, who was walking him outside to meet the rest of the family. She followed closely behind, and she noticed him getting more and more comfortable. He went around meeting everyone and shaking their hands, or hugging them. T met up with her siblings, hugging them, and letting her nieces and nephews up on her hips. She played with them and chatted for a while, and Klaus came back to her, almost skipping.

“Did you know that your dad served in the Army?” Klaus asked her, a small sparkle in his eye.

“Klaus....he’s my dad. Why wouldn’t I know?” she replied, tilting her head to the side. She giggled at his look, and her siblings noticed him, and gave him a collective small rundown. She did argue with her siblings a fuck ton, but they always tended to come to her aid if needed.

  Klaus went around and introduced himself to T’s aunt that just came in, and she giggled as he was almost crushed by the force of her hug. She patted his back and looked him up and down.

“Goodness, you need somethin’ to eat, one more gust of wind, we won’t see you ‘til Christmas!” she stated, shaking her head jokingly.

  He giggled at the effort, and prodded about needing to go to a chiropractor. She cackled, and he went back to T, placing a tiny kiss to her cheek.

“This is going surprisingly well, what the fuuuck?!” he whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him. He placed his chin on top of her head and sighed in her touch. The moment, however, was short lived, as one of Topazi’s nieces came between them and giggled around their ankles, and Klaus picked one of them up, asking their name.

  She was pleasantly shocked at his reaction with the kids, and soon enough, the two of them were running in the yard, playing tag. She was currently in the lead, and her siblings were bounding towards her, waiting for there to be a chance to tackle her. Klaus came up from behind her and tackled her, causing the both of them to crash to the ground.

“Oh come on, that’s nowhere near fair!” she yelled, trying to wiggle away from him. He looked into her eyes, and pecked her lips. They sighed against each other and the sun baked their skin. Klaus eventually rolled off of T, and just as they were getting hungry, dinner was called.

  She ran to the backyard, dress billowing behind her, Klaus in tow, and she washed her hands before getting in line. Her mouth simply watered at the selection of southern food placed in front of her. Klaus was somewhat surprised at everything, but welcomed it happily when confronted with....wait a minute....sweet potatoes with cherries?? Topazi laughed at him, and promised to explain it to him once they sat down. Your family, and you could practically hear their thoughts “Shouldn’t he get more?”. It half sickened her to think of that though, so she found a lawn chair to sit in, carefully placing it to avoid the ant beds and tree roots.

“Okay so, what the fuck is with the sweet potatoes?” Klaus asked, shoving a spoonful of potato salad in his mouth.

“They’re called candied yams. The cherries help them become sweeter. And don’t take the fucking breadcrumbs off the mac and cheese. I’ll slaughter you, that’s the best part.” T whispered, slowly becoming more and more full.

  She went back for another serving (or two) and stopped at dessert, which was provided graciously. Many cakes and pies laid in front of her, as well as tarts, and, wait, who the fuck brought Krispy Kreme?

“Who got lazy?” she mumbled, walking back to Klaus with her plate full of sweets, and she immediately took a bite from the glazed donut, eyes closing. “Still warm though.”

“I mean, Honey only taught me to make a couple things, and donuts weren’t one of them.” he stated, sipping his tea.

  The sun began to set, and the drinks started pouring. The stories began to filter out, and Topazi saw Klaus start to nod off, and she announced their leaving. He sleepily said his goodbyes and when they got into the car, Klaus knocked out almost immediately. The drive home was very quiet. Music played quietly on the radio, and T hummed along quietly. Klaus shuffled every now and then in his sleep, and his breathing fogged the window on his side of the car. When they arrived home, Topazi gently woke Klaus, and he slowly made his way into the house, practically sleepwalking. As they were undressing and getting into bed, Klaus quietly whispered a couple words. Topazi barely heard him, and he repeated himself.

“Thank you for letting me meet your family. I enjoyed it. I’m happy I got to know the people who raised you. They did a damn good job too.” he whispered back, gently kissing Topazi’s head. She got a bit flustered from the compliment and gently thanked him as well, and the two of them fell asleep to the sound of their respective partner’s heartbeats.

Masterlist

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: A Familiar Face (1/?)

WELCOME WELCOME EVERYONE! Today, the tournament arc begins! I do hope you’ll enjoy this ahahah

I dedicate this to all the wonderful people of the Au’s Discord - hit me up if you wanna join! Also, a special thank you to @traitorous-bisexual and @awebo without whom this arc wouldn’t exist <3

Finally, before we start: make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere , @spout1nk and (soon) @julius-ranch for art and fanfics about the AU!!

It was a lovely morning. 

The sun shined through the tinted windows, turning the light a soft orange glow that lessened the glare of it against his eyes. 

It was a welcome respite: during the months that involved preparing the tournament, days were quick to melt together, nights becoming just darker afternoons as Scott and everyone around him hurried to make everything look ready for the contestants' arrival. So, not having the sun shine directly into his eyes as he looked over the final challenges that had been chosen for the tournament was a relief. The cup of warm tea by his desk was also a saving grace.

Stifling a yawn, Scott figured that he could let himself take a stroll. Maybe open up his window, let the room freshen up a bit. 

With his window overlooking one of the many parks inside the Academy, maybe he could distract himself for a moment and see if his protege had finally started warming up to his teammates. 

That plan had flown out of the window almost immediately. Or maybe it would be better to say that it had flown into the window, along with a green tipped arrow that had suddenly appeared in his field of vision. 

Now, Scott hasn't been adventuring for a while, but it would be foolish to think that he's forgotten how the world works - with a flick of his wrist, a translucent dome of purple arcane energy materializes between him and the incoming arrow, which impacts with the barrier a split second later. The tip goes through, piercing the veil of his magic, and for a terrifying moment Scott thinks it's not gonna stop, but it simply stops, held in place as if caught in a web. 

Which is a relief, the amateur that tried to attack him - an Archmage, in the middle of his own Academy - failed to get their first shot in and this will give him the time to step back and call his most trusted in order to quickly and efficiently get rid of the problem at hand. He has other more pressing matters to attend to, he's not going to waste his time on this. 

As his Shield spell fades, it congeals like a shimmering second skin over his upper arm. Maybe calling the guards isn't that pressing, he's got this. 

Or maybe he doesn't, he thinks as he get a second, much more terrifying surprise - in the span of a couple of seconds, he really can get no breaks.

A figure materializes in the air in front of him, with a dark hood over their head that covers most of their features except for a huge - terrifying - grin and an intricate bow strapped to their back.

The figure appears with a puff of iridescent smoke, crouched in the air as if they'd been in the process of jumping before they decided to teleport, and- crashes into him, the force of the impact and the shock of it happening making him lose his balance and start falling back. 

There's a moment where Scott is confused: is this some sort of strange tactic? Did the stranger misjudge their trajectory? Are they going to wrestle on the ground as if they weren't both magic users? 

Then, a brief split second of panic - he didn't look what the stranger was holding, and he is currently falling on his back. He is going to get stabbed, at the very least, and that conviction is only made stronger as he feels the stranger's arms close in around him. 

But then, Scott has simply enough time to blink in shock, as the arms just wrap around his back, before his world is literally turned upside down.

One moment he is falling on his back, already anticipating the pain of a knife to the back - please no vital organs, spare him the need for an extremely expansive healer. The next the is wrapped in a hug and grunting in pain as his knees impact with the ground. 

"Ah, fuck that hurt- Scotty are you alright?" 

Scott refuses to believe this. He pushes against the chest under him - the arms give, letting him go - and finds himself face to face with a sight that is both very familiar and weirdly unusual. 

"You-" Scott says, tone an unconvincingly mix of menacing and angry as he jabs a finger into the not-so-stranger's chest -"Are lucky to be alive. I could have murdered you."

Hbomb's worried glance instantly brightens, despite Scott's best hopes, and he throws his head back to laugh. No matter how irritated he is at his friend, he can't help but huff out a laugh himself, and a moment later they're both chuckling together on the floor. By all the gods, it has been some time.

"You are a dumbass, H. You couldn't just use the door? You know, like a normal person?!" Scott asks, holding himself up on his left elbow because H has always been one to laugh with his whole body and Scott is still recovering from jamming his knees into the floor, he's not in the mood to be jostled around by an enthusiastic ranger. 

"Aw, Scotty, aren't you happy to see me?" The half-elf asks, putting a hand on his chest as he fails to pretend he's insulted. Scott flicks his nose. 

"Ah- that hurt!"

"I know, I meant it to hurt. Now, do you want to tell me what you're doing here? And what is that doing on your face?" Scott demands, serious at first until he realises that H has been growing out his beard well past what he considers to be a good length - H's pout is barely visible under all that scruff.

"Well, now, that is unnecessarily rude. I've been traveling for a while now, and I wasn't gonna risk injuring myself-" Scott grabs a wandering hand and brings it back on H's chest. 

"H." Hbomb has a tendency of gesticulating when his hands aren't being kept busy, and while he did figure that his friend had simply forgotten to shave, he has known him long enough to be able to recognise when H is going off on a tangent - which is perfectly fine - and when he's changing the subject because he doesn't want to answer. 

He knows he's right when H simply shuts up, eyes wide like those of a deer - quite fitting, considering where he enjoys spending most of his time. But instead of looking pensive, or starting to answer, H just … looks down. At where their hands are. 

Normally, he wouldn't think much of it. But H looks almost sheepish, and his eyes keep moving from his face to their hands, so Scott looks down. 

His brain screeches to a halt, and suddenly he stands up a little straighter, sitting on the floor next to H as he grabs his hand in his. 

Around his fingers wraps a perfect replica of a silver winged fae dragon, while in his palm- one of the most accurate representations of the different Planes. 

Scott turns his stare to his fiend, who looks more calm than Scott feels he has any right to, and when he speaks he sounds almost breathless. 

"What happened to you?"

The tale of how Shubble's patron reached out to him to grant him powers is exhilarating. Not in the "funny" sense, more in the "my friend who is usually not that fond of talking and interacting with people especially when he's not in a place he is familiar with, was transported to a different plane and spoke with a being of transcendent power". So maybe a bit in the "funny" sense. 

The only negative side of the whole affair is the fact that Shubble is currently not present. 

She actually teaches at the Academy, so H was right in his assumption that reaching this place would have helped him out, but he just barely missed her by a couple of weeks. She's recently left, called out on an urgent mission by her patron themselves, and a part of Scott's mind can't help but feel like it is an extremely weird coincidence: he respects power gained through pacts, but he fears deeply the machinations of otherworldly beings' minds and the power they hold over his friends. He'd much prefer dealing with forces controlled by his own self, so that when a spell backfires comically he only has himself to blame. 

But all things considered, he's glad to see H is still alive and seemingly doing better than ever. He looks fine, happy and more confident than the last time he saw him - the way he stands and moves more firm, more secure, filling his space in a way the Hbomb of some time ago wouldn't have. 

It's nice to see him like this. 

What isn't nice is the way his increased confidence leads him to suggest how good of an idea it would be for him to take part into the tournament. Which is a horrible idea. 

"Listen, I know I am banned from playing again-" H starts, arms spread open with a mischievous grin on his face. Scott has sudden flashbacks to all the times he'd seen that grin from the other side of the battlefield and shakes his head firmly before pointing a stern finger at his chest.

"You still have a year before you can." 

H huffs, shoulders falling, and he adopts the most fake-innocent expression Scott has ever seen. 

"But I'm just here to say hi!" Scott levels him with a blank stare, using all of his willpower and internal strength to avoid bursting out laughing. Because for all that his friend's expression is hilarious, this is really no laughing matter. He can't have him win again. 

"I said what I said." H's head hits the desk with a groan of protest. 

On the other side of the table, Scott pinches his own arm in order not to laugh. 

He fails.

H still manages to pout his way into getting a free room to stay in for a while - just like the old times, come on! - and seems to be alright with being left to his own devices for the rest of the morning. 

Knowing him, he'll take it as the perfect chance to snoop around, make new friends and bother the tournament's contestants. 

As Scott turns back to his schematics, the only thing he does is chuckle to himself. 

[haloud]

day 7- uranus

Michael rolls his head over the back of the lawn chair, closing his eyes, letting all the tension out of his neck and shoulders. Then he blinks his eyes open, staring up at the stars. They’re faint, light pollution from the nearby town, his eyes too unadjusted thanks to the crackling fire at his feet. He’d have to stare straight up for a long time to pick out most of his favorite stars, but the Big Dipper is an old friend, so he’s content.

A car pulls up, and then there are footsteps on the gravel approaching him. He takes a second before looking up. He likes it, that people know they can find him here in the early night. Likes that people do.

“Hey, uh…Michael?”

Michael sits up so fast he cricks his neck at the sound of Max’s voice. Wincing, he rubs it and says, “Well look what the Chupacabra dragged in.”

“Um, yeah,” Max says, doing that awkward thing he does where he rubs the knuckles of both hands together, a nervous habit he’s had most of his life. Michael kicks the chair next to him.

“Sit down, stop hovering.”

Max sits. His long legs sprawl a little too close to the fire, but Michael doesn’t say anything that might get mistaken for nagging, for taking too much care. Anything that might start a fight.

“So I’m guessing you noticed I’ve, uh, not been around a lot lately.”

Michael gropes for a beer from the sixer at his feet and pops it with his brain, taking a deep swig. If Max wants one, he can ask for it, he thinks mulishly, then hands him one anyway.

“You could say that,” Michael says shortly.

“I’m…sorry. I…learned something about our history that I don’t know how to…”

“Oh yeah?” Michael drawls. “’Bout six foot one, beard oil connoisseur, really shitty accent he thinks no one can tell is fake?”

“No, not him. This is something a little closer to home. And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I…but that wasn’t fair to you. Trust me, I’ve heard that plenty from Isobel and Maria. Even Alex dropped by the Pony to give me a piece of his mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael says, keeping his voice impressively level. The idea that anyone would stick up for him over Max ignoring him is…not something he knows what to do with.

“Yeah, man. Scary stuff.”

Max laughs without a shred of humor, chugging half his beer at once.

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Michael says. “Just spit it out, man. I’m sure it’s nothing worse than any other shit we’ve dealt with. I am numb to bombshells at this point.”

It’s a long time before Max says anything else. Michael finishes his beer, doesn’t grab another one, just watches the leaping flames in Max’s eyes.

“A few months back when Sheriff Valenti was after me for killing Noah, she sat me down to talk about all the ways I fit the profile. Y’know, uh, white male, 18-40, anger issues...One of those ways was, uh. Troubled childhood. Tried to tell her my childhood was fine, but she pointed out that wandering the desert naked at seven years old isn’t exactly a lack of trouble. Turns out she was the deputy on our case, back then.”

“Huh.”

Explains a few things about the way she used to look at him every time he got hauled in, before she just got used to it.

“She told me that she came to see us in the group home the day Isobel and I were adopted.” Max takes a deep breath.

Stop. Michael wants to tell him to stop. Doesn’t want, doesn’t need to hear what comes next. Doesn’t remember that day, doesn’t have to. He knows, enough, from what people have told him. Can hear the screams, see the red on the walls.

“Good for her,” he grunts.

“She told me that—fuck, Michael, there’s no good way to say this—she said that. That I was the one screaming and drawing on the walls, that you…you calmed me down, but…it was too late, and the Evanses had the wrong idea, and that’s why you were left...” Max chokes off, puts a hand over his eyes. Michael doesn’t have to have his and Isobel’s connection to recognize the awful emotion crushing him.

Michael opens another beer.

“Say something,” Max almost begs.

“Why.”

Michael has to swallow around the lump in his throat, his rabbiting heartbeat.

“Why even tell me this? What fucking good does it do? I can’t—you can’t—nobody can change what happened, even if I believe you—”

“You deserved to know.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me. Since when does the world give a fuck about what I deserve?”

Max flinches. It doesn’t make Michael feel any better. Just like putting a fist in his face wouldn’t make him feel better, and neither would screaming at the world for not being fair. He did a lot of that when he was a child and still believed in a few things that might be listening.

He doesn’t take another beer, if only because only something stronger would put a dent in the feelings he wants to drown, and he doesn’t keep any of that shit around.

“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, yeah? The guy who doesn’t murder people with his hands got the short end of the stick and was therefore responsible for disposin’ of a few less bodies. Highlight of my fuckin’ life, that one. You’re welcome.”

His mind doesn’t go easy on him, whirling with images and thoughts from Max tied to the bed, Max exploding and killing Father Davis to, absurdly, would Alex have ever noticed me if I was preppy Michael Evans. He laughs just to do something with his mouth that isn’t screaming, clenching his left hand into a fist and squeezing the knuckles, though it isn’t as much of a distraction now as it used to be, without the pain.

“Hey, you wanna thank me, make me some business cards—Michael Guerin, mechanic, gravedigger, and total fuckin’ mug—”

He breaks off into more laughter, until he’s bent double, clutching his knees and wheezing.

Max hasn’t said a fuckin’ word.

“Well?” Michael demands, straightening up, looking Max in the eye.

“I don’t know, Michael, I don’t know! I don’t know what to do with any of it, I don’t know what to do with, with you, with everything you’ve sacrificed for Isobel and for me, I don’t know how to be worthy of it, I don’t know how to thank you, I don’t, I don’t know.”

Michael rocks back in his chair, face pointed up at the sky again, drinking in the constellations until he covers his eyes with his hands and lets out a shout of frustration. Everything around them not bolted down lifts and inch and slams back down for emphasis.

Calmer, then, Michael says, “We were seven year old newborns. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Which means you just did it on instinct. It’s just who you are. You protect us, and we, and we…”

“Don’t,” Michael cuts him off, wearily. He doesn’t need to hear any self-recriminations.

“No, Michael, come on. The things you’ve done, the ways you’ve been hurt, you…there aren’t words to describe the gratitude, I just...Thank you, Michael.”

The only sound after that is the crackling fire, and in that silence, Michael floats Max over another beer.

It would be easier if Michael could resent him. If he could want to go back and do it all over again without knowing in a place deep enough in him it could be his cells or a sickness that he’d do the exact same thing, go through all that hell a second time, a third.

“Nobody can change the past,” he says eventually. It’s something Sanders used to say to him any time he made a mistake, when he was just a kid and learning and not a certified ace mechanic who ought to know better. It’s weird, to Michael, right here and right now, having the wisdom of somebody else in his mouth.

This life hasn’t had all bad things.

“But we can try and change the future,” Max says. “I know I’ve done a hell of a job of it these past weeks, but I don’t want to pretend like we don’t know this. I want things to be better between us. I want to be a better brother.”

“Oh yeah? Like how?” Michael’s voice slips into mockery; he doesn’t try to prevent it. “Find me a job that you don’t want? Toss me a hand me down phone when you get an upgrade? Biweekly pity parties? Been there, done that, was given the t-shirt against my will.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe! Just not like that, man, we’re not kids anymore. Maybe we could, I don’t know, try to figure out what being better means together? No more sacrifices. No more charity.”

Michael picks at the label of his latest empty bottle. 

Voice quiet, almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire, Max says, “Dude, my heart only beats because of what you did for me. I came back to life knowing that. This just puts it into perspective.”

“I didn’t do that alone. Liz and Valenti were just as important. More. Rosa kickstarted you. I was just the assist.”

“Michael.” 

“What?”

“What do you need from me? What will help you understand how much you mean to Isobel and me. It’s not charity, man. It’s family. We keep saying that, but I think we need to do a better job defining it, you know?”

What does he need. It’s such a rare question he doesn’t know the answer.

“Free drinks at the Pony for life, a nice, cozy alibi, and your head on a pike instead of mine when Maria finds out.” he says.

Max laughs, the sound strained but genuine, his head thrown back to face the stars.